


Dear Dean

by thatpeculiarone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Popstar, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2020 (Supernatural), M/M, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Parent Castiel (Supernatural), Parent Dean Winchester, Past Mpreg, Pining, Popstar Dean, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpeculiarone/pseuds/thatpeculiarone
Summary: At thirty years old, Dean is finally living the life he always wanted. He’s performed all over the world, sold two albums and is financially stable for the first time in a long time. He is at the peak of his career, he should be the happiest he has ever been… so why isn’t he?When Dean gets a peculiar box of letters in the mail, his life is turned upside down unexpectedly. For better or for worse? Dean doesn’t know.Yet one thing is for sure, he is going to find out.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 40
Kudos: 287
Collections: Dean/Cas Pinefest 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! 
> 
> Firstly, I need to say a massive, _massive_ thank you to my best friend [Ari](https://willowywings.tumblr.com). Not only was Ari beta'ing this work, but she did the art!! My previous artist had to drop out last minute only two days prior to posting and if it wasn't for Ari volunteering at the last minute to be my artist, I wouldn't have been able to post today. Not only did she spend a whole day editing my work but she create two art pieces in one day. **one. day.** I love her to bits and so grateful to have her as a friend! Please check out her art [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528824).
> 
> Secondly, a massive thank you to my other betas [firefly124](https://firefly124-writing.tumblr.com/) and Quinn Quentin! You guys helped me out so much!! And also a big thank you to [Makenna](https://thursdays-fallen-angel.tumblr.com), who is always there to support me.
> 
> Finally, thank you to Mittens and Cass for their hard work yet again!! Second year participating in Pinefest and it's still a treat!

  
  


* * *

THE DEAR DEAN PLAYLIST

[Sounds of Someday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=un2AAqNCYtw) [Radio Company](https://genius.com/Radio-company-sounds-of-someday-lyrics) 4:16

[The Lightning Strike ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnEyGS3Hf9A) [Snow Patrol](https://genius.com/Snow-patrol-the-lightning-strike-lyrics) 5:09

[Nothing Else Matters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAGnKpE4NCI) [Metallica](https://genius.com/Metallica-nothing-else-matters-lyrics) 6:28

[Missing You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_xiCvtoLok) [Blake McGrath](https://genius.com/Blake-mcgrath-missing-you-lyrics) 4:01

[Drowning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4NdY9An886A) [Radio Company](https://genius.com/Radio-company-drowning-lyrics) 3:46

[Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6R2O5JxFSM) [Sleeping At Last](https://genius.com/Sleeping-at-last-heart-lyrics) 3:34

[Lost? (Coldplay Cover)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofn8Z4b3_FU) [Alyssa Bonagura](https://genius.com/Coldplay-lost-lyrics) 5:05

[The Scientist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s70OsXlDD94) [Coldplay](https://genius.com/Coldplay-the-scientist-lyrics) 5:10

[Simple Man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKMbXOwXSdM) [Jason Manns & Jensen Ackles](https://genius.com/Jason-manns-simple-man-lyrics) 4:18

[Rock Song (Acoustic)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqB99L8hvk4) [Louden Swain](https://genius.com/Louden-swain-rock-song-acoustic-lyrics) 4:32

[New York](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ytlz0rWantI) [Snow Patrol](https://genius.com/Snow-patrol-new-york-lyrics) 4:00

[Mercury](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBpG1G8YIFM) [Sleeping At Last](https://genius.com/Sleeping-at-last-mercury-lyrics) 3:33

[All Our Own](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dDnEfwirrQA) [Radio Company](https://genius.com/Radio-company-all-our-own-lyrics) 3:45

[Code by Layouttesst](http://layouttesst.livejournal.com/profile)

* * *

**January 17th 2008**  
**Eudora, Kansas**  
**_One Year, Nine Months Earlier_ **

It was still dark out, and Dean hadn’t slept. 

He wanted to — so badly did he want to fall asleep. He knew that if he were able to he would fall off in a heartbeat. He hadn’t been this comfortable in a long time — the bed was so warm and so inviting, with pillows that smelled of apple shampoo and the lingering scent of aftershave. In a weird and strange way, he wanted to bury his head in them. 

It was a little past four in the morning, so early even the birds weren’t awake yet. The house and everything around him were silent, the most quiet Dean had ever experienced in the small suburban home. All he could hear was the sound of soft snores from the companion next to him, the one who had kindly let Dean stay in his bed. 

A selfish and guilty part of Dean wished he could call this man beside him a stranger, nothing but a fling. Maybe that way, it would be easier to leave.

Yet he couldn’t, because he was _Cas._ Sweet, beautiful, _perfect_ Cas. 

There were so many things Dean wanted to do right now. One part of him wanted him to brush the lingering hair off Cas’ sweaty forehead, another wanted to lean over and just kiss him awake. He also had a strong, overwhelming urge to curl into the man’s arms, fall asleep, and stay there for as long as Cas would have him. 

He didn’t do any of those. 

Instead, he got up and quietly crept into the adjoining bathroom. Evidence of their adventures from previous hours lay smeared on Dean’s stomach, so he did his best to clean up without making too much noise. He wanted nothing more than to _not_ wake Cas. After he’d cleaned up, he made his way back into the bedroom and scavenged for his clothes on the dark carpeted floor. Chucking them on hastily, he then reached for his phone that was perched on one of the nightstands. He was glad he’d made the choice to leave his keys by the front door. 

He faced the bedroom door, ready to leave, but felt compelled to send the sleeping figure one last glance. A nagging voice in the back of his mind urged him, _begged_ him to say goodbye. To say goodbye to the man he’d just spent the last few weeks with, who had given Dean everything and more. 

Instead he turned around and walked into the hall, exiting without so much as a second glance. 

  


  


Later on, as the headlights of his car shone ever the sign exclaiming: _Now Leaving, Eudora_ , he reminded himself not saying goodbye had been for the best. That it’d be easier for the both of them. 

To this day, Dean doesn’t know whether he truly believed that at the time, or whether he’d just been trying to ease the guilt burning inside him.

* * *

  
  


Dean still remembers the first day of kindergarten. 

Well, he can’t remember all of it. He doesn’t remember the drive to school, or holding his mom’s hand, or the first moment he was introduced to the peers that he’d eventually complete the remainder of his schooling with. He doesn’t even remember his mom saying goodbye to him as class began. 

What he _does_ remember is the scent of the classroom — a mixture between cleaning chemicals, stale glue, and the musty smell of craft paint. He also remembers his teacher, Miss Beck. A young woman with short blonde hair and black rimmed glasses. She had a friendly smile, and always smelled like rose perfume. However, most importantly, he remembers the second activity they did that day — right after his first ever recess.

After clambering in from the playground, Miss Beck sat the class down on the mat for story time. He can’t remember specific details, like the sound of her voice, but he remembers that she read them a book about jobs. He still has memories of seeing children dressed up in costumes, posing as different careers, like nurses or firefighters. When they finished the book, they were sent back to their desks. When Dean sat down at his small desk — he thinks he remembers it being green? — a worksheet awaited him.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_ It asked him. 

Dean still has that worksheet to this day. It sits in a dust-covered portfolio up in his Aunt Ellen’s study. Sometimes when he visits home, he finds himself looking at it purely for the irony. 

Because most kids don’t really know what they want to be, especially not at five-years-old. Dean remembers when his brother Sam was five and he’d been set on becoming a power ranger. Now? He’d just finished law school at Stanford. Dean had attended his graduation back in May. His friend at the time, Taylor, had wanted to be a nurse. And now, he’s currently serving in Iraq as a combat medic. Dean knew so many people who had become something different from what they’d wanted to be as children. 

Dean, however, was an exception. 

He still remembers handing the sheet to Miss Beck, his teacher smiling brightly at the words. 

_“You want to be a rockstar, Dean?”_ She asked him. He nodded. 

_“I think that’s an excellent job choice.”_ She replied. _“I look forward to one day seeing you perform.”_

Dean thinks — no — he _knows_ that she was only saying that because it was her job. He can only guess how many kids out there want to be rockstars when they grow up. Yet not many of them ever achieve it. He knows that Miss Beck never expected to hear Dean’s voice on the radio, or see him headline his own tour throughout the States or parts of Europe. He knows that _no one_ expected little Dean Winchester from Sioux Falls to become Dean Smith, a Grammy nominated Best New Artist, currently finishing up his tour after two successful albums. It was a life that a kid can only dream of, that Dean once only ever imagined. It’s hard to believe he was now living it. 

Though sometimes, he does think back to that day in kindergarten, as he sat colouring in the crudely drawn picture of himself on stage. Would his life have been different if he had chosen a different job? Would he have never become a rockstar if he had wanted to be a nurse? Or hell, even a power ranger? Would his life have been different if Miss Beck had told the truth that day — if she had told Dean that being a rockstar was an impossible dream, and he really should consider an alternative career path?

If she had, would Dean have listened? 

If so… would he still be unhappy? 

* * *

**October 1st 2009  
** **Los Angeles, California**  
**_Present Day_ **

Sometimes, and only sometimes, does Dean see the perks to being the reclusive _Dean Smith._

First of all, Dean Smith is an enigma — private, quiet, _mysterious_ — and according to his manager: _being a mystery is the key to becoming wealthy._ For someone who quit high school in order to put food on the table, Dean is certainly appreciative of the fact that he now has some money in the bank. For a while, Dean had forgotten what it felt like to feel safe, to not have to worry about paying bills or losing valuables like a house or car due to lack of funds. Now, it isn’t even a worry. He can’t lie, it’s a nice feeling.

Secondly, the fact that no one knows much about the public farce of Dean Smith is a perk. Sure, in the past he had released some information about himself to the public. Only little tidbits, such as the fact that he’s thirty, was born and raised in the midwest, and likes classic rock and warm apple pie. However, there’s still so much that people don’t know. They don't know he has a little brother called Sam, or that from the age of 16, they both lived with his Aunt Ellen and cousin Jo in their small, three bedroom townhouse. That he grew up in the small city of Sioux Falls, working from the age of 14 to provide for his brother while his dad laid practically comatose on the couch. They have no idea that Dean waited until 26 to pursue his dream, once his brother had gotten into law school and practically _begged_ Dean to go for it. No one knows this because Dean doesn’t want them to. 

Which leads him to his third perk, the fact that he is able to walk out in public without so much as a second glance. Most people who run in the music industry and beyond know who Dean Smith is, but Dean bets they’d never be able to pick him out in a crowd. Well, maybe they’d be able to if he wore his signature stage look, an outfit that had been recently dubbed “The Dean Smith look” in various magazine articles.

A black fedora and skinny jeans, chelsea boots and an oversized leather jacket. His outfit is like a costume, something he wears to disguise himself when he performs live in front of a crowd. Dean likes to think of it as his own, personal Batman suit — he goes out there and is a whole new person; a whole new identity. Sure, people can still see features of his face, he’s sure there may be some old classmates that might have the slightest clue. But it’s hard to tell from the way Dean angles himself on stage, so the fedora almost covers the front half of his face. You can’t tell what colour eyes Dean has, nor his shade of hair. The oversized jacket covers most of his torso. So is Dean built, or is he actually skinny like a twig? Does he have tattoos? Piercings? Who knows? Not the public. He doesn’t want them to. He likes having a sense of privacy in his life. 

Which is why he’s able to take a leisurely stroll from his LA apartment to his manager’s office only three blocks over. Hell, he’s even able to stop for coffee on the way. He finds it strange how a simple, but slightly different outfit makes him so unrecognisable. A Canaries cap, red ray bans, a Stanford sweatshirt (courtesy of Sam) and ripped denim jeans. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the Converse. Now? He just looks like any other LA douche. No one bats an eye at him. They most certainly don’t think of him as the “enigmatic Dean Smith”.

Dean wanders into the lobby of _Lazarus Records_ at exactly five to nine in the morning. He isn’t particularly thrilled about being up this early, as he finished his last concert of the tour just last night. But the double shot of espresso in his drink is already beginning to work its magic — and he’s just stepped foot in the _one_ place in LA where he can truly be himself. 

He walks towards the elevator, making eye contact with the receptionist Tessa along the way. She smiles at Dean and waves in greeting, despite the phone that is perched between her shoulder and ear. Dean returns the greeting with a small hand wave of his own, and continues his journey to the elevators. 

He finds himself quickly slipping into the open one ready to go up. A few other people are already inside, but none of them give him a second glance. He isn’t sure whether it’s because they don’t recognise him, or they _do_ know who he is and just don’t care. He’s aware only a select handful of people know his real name. His team tells him it’s to avoid the risk of it getting into the public. Dean can’t imagine what kind of life he’d live if everyone knew who he truly was. No more walks to the coffee shop, or trips to the local grocers. No more family dinners in Sioux Falls or walks on the beach. No more freedom.

When the doors open on Level 8, Dean hops off and takes an immediate left. The hallway is eerily silent, the only sound being the soles of Dean’s shoes on the hardwood floors. Dean isn’t surprised, considering most of the rooms on the 8th floor are primarily meeting rooms. The only office on the entire floor sits at the far west end, and it’s occupant is a silent worker. Contrary to popular belief, considering that they’re known to most as brash and eccentric. 

When Dean reaches the door, he gives a quick few taps to announce his arrival before entering. As he swings the door open, he immediately meets the gaze of sharp green eyes. 

“Dean!” Pamela exclaims, jumping up from her seat. “Thank you for coming!”

She walks over to him from her desk, instantly pulling him into a warm embrace. Dean doesn’t hesitate in relaxing into it, wrapping his arms around her and sinking into the hug. He’s known Pamela — Pam, as she prefers everyone to call her — for the past three years of his life. He can still remember when he met her, on a stormy Summer day in late August of ‘06. He remembers being terrified of her, scared of what she might think of the demo CD he’d sent her the month prior. He had no idea why she’d invited him to LA, or why she’d asked him to meet her at Lazarus Records. Little did he know at the time that Pam had big plans for him. Which is why she’s now both his manager, and good friend. 

“Sorry I had to leave your show early last night,” she tells him as she pulls away from the hug. She gestures at the large, white lounge by the window — one that Dean has always been quite fond of. He pretty much catapults onto it, laying on his back with his arms behind his head. 

“But duty calls, you know how it is,” Pam continues, “The big men upstairs wanted to run the numbers with me. Let’s just say, they were— _are,_ very impressed with the profit from this last tour.” 

Dean bites his lip so that he doesn’t mutter the _‘yeah, I bet they are’_ that he desperately wants to let slip. While he’s grateful for Pam and Lazarus Records for taking a chance on him and giving him the success he has today, he isn’t particularly fond of its founders: Alistair Smith and Zachariah Adler. He feels that between the two of them, the artists under their label aren’t seen as people but rather collectables. They’re pretty pieces for the men’s shelves — there to make them look good and bring in the dough. If it wasn’t for the loyalty Dean has to Pam, he knows he would’ve left this place long ago.

“But all the money talk can wait until a later date, when we’re really bored. That isn’t why I called you in today...” 

Dean listens as Pam trails off, only to begin heaving in breaths, as if she’s carrying something heavy. He sits up and turns just in time to witness his manager place down a large cardboard box a few feet in front of him. The box is filled with two huge plastic bags, both overflowing with letters and packages. 

“...this is,” she halts.

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “What _is_ all of this?”

“Well, we recently set up a P.O. box for your fans to send you mail,” Pam says, “and boy, did they send a lot. I’ve spent the past two weeks reading through every one of these bad boys. What have I always said Dean? The girls have the hots for mysterious fellas.” 

She grabs a large plastic bag out of the box and places it in front of Dean. 

“This bag contains the letters which me and my team gave the thumbs up. That other bag is from the loonies — the stalkers, the weirdos — just a basket full of crazy. We didn’t exactly want a repeat of Trenton.”

Dean winces at the thought of his one and only stalker ever. From day one, Dean and his team were adamant about keeping his life private, not just through what he wore on stage, but with how he promoted himself and his music. Only radio interviews, done over the phone, and _no personal questions._ He wasn’t allowed to go out and socialise. Instead, he spent most of his time with either his team, or the band he happened to be touring for (there were always exceptions to the rule). No photos were shared, no details about his life of any kind. Yet despite their efforts, some of Dean’s personal information was still found by former-special-ops Cole Trenton, and used as a bargaining chip. It had been a rough two weeks, and Dean had felt as if he’d hit rock bottom. While it worked out in the end, with Trenton imprisoned and security increased, Dean can understand the precautions Pamela and his team are still now taking. 

“...So please, ignore them. However, _these_ ones you need to read, so that I can finally get them out of my office,” Pamela says. 

A part of Dean wants to protest and tell Pam to reschedule for a later date. He only just finished his first headlining tour, right after going on two back-to-back tours as an opening act. What he’d thought would be a short gig with 30 Seconds to Mars back in 2008, turned into a fourteen-month adventure across the world after Coldplay decided to take him on board. He began his tour with Coldplay only three days after finishing the first one, and he’d never before experienced that much _jetlag._ And then, right after finishing up his leg with Coldplay in Asia… _bam_ — straight into his own shows in Europe and the United States for five months. 

Dean just wants to sleep, but he knows he can’t. Fans have sent these letters and gifts to him. While he never exactly asked for a P.O. box to be made for him, he feels that it’s nice sentiment his management team created. Being so private, Dean is unable to interact with fans on a personal level. While he enjoys the aspects of performing (mostly), he sometimes wants a deeper connection with his fanbase. Dean knows that letters are a way to do that, and he is excited to read them. 

So he cozies up on Pam’s couch with his now lukewarm cup of coffee. The letters are from fans all over the world, from Italy, to Hong Kong, to New Zealand. The ages of his fans range too, but that’s something Dean already knew. He reads one letter from a twenty-five year old fan, and the next from a fourteen-year-old. Most of them are female, which again Dean isn’t surprised by. By the time he’s onto his seventh letter, which has a little cartoon picture of his stage-self attached, Pam interrupts with a slight groan. 

“Sorry, these emails are getting tedious,” she tells him, pausing her typing and picking up her empty mug. “I’m gonna go grab some more joe, you okay here?” 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dean responds absently, continuing to read the letter from the 21-year-old fan from Portugal. He listens as Pam heads out the door and towards the kitchen on the east end of the floor, leaving Dean alone with his letters. 

He reads two more letters during the time Pam is gone, before he decides to take a small break. His head is pounding from all the words he’s read and all the names of his fans that he’s trying to remember. _Alice. Yasmin. Tahlia. Makenna. Jake. Rose. Arianna. Eric. Paisley._ And looking over at the still-overflowing bag of packages, he knows he has a long way to go.

He stands up for a moment and stretches, his neck tense from hunching over the various pieces of paper. He wonders if he can just bundle these all up and take them home with him, instead of reading them all here and now. He can already feel the headache forming, the double-shot of caffeine not enough to cure the exhaustion from continuous months of travel. 

He looks over at the other bag full of letters, those from the “crazy” fans, as his manager had dubbed them. Despite Pam telling him not to read them, he can’t help but feel curious. What could these fans have written, to have Pam refer to them as insane? While not exactly wanting Dean to read them, she didn’t seem all that concerned. So, he feels like none of them are another Trenton case. He peeks over at the bag, wondering if maybe he’ll be able to spot a random letter filled with pentagrams or written in blood (because that would definitely tick Dean’s “crazy” category), but instead the first thing he spots is an open shoebox filled with white envelopes. Each of them has his name and a random number written on the front in beautiful calligraphy, a style of writing Dean is _sure_ that he recognises. Yet, he can’t figure out from where.. _._ One of them has been ripped open, and the contents of that letter were obviously enough for Pam to deem that person a “loony”. For a reason Dean can’t explain, however, he feels a pull to investigate these envelopes further. 

Just as he takes a step towards them, Pam re-enters her office, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting in with her. She raises her eyebrows at Dean, giving him a curious look. 

“What’s with the box?” He asks while pointing at it, “Why did you discard those?” 

Pam takes a quick peek at the box, before huffing a laugh and rolling her eyes. “Right. Like I said, Dean, some of your fans are definitely a bit on the wack side. This one claims that they’re pregnant with your child. Obviously delusional.” 

Dean snorts, agreeing with Pam. Forgoing the party lifestyle meant forgoing random flings. He knows if he were to go out and sleep with somebody, it would defeat the whole purpose of his “private life.”

“Yeah…” Pam continues, heading back over to her desk. “Some random chick from Kansas named Casteel, or something. Probably a name she made up and likes to call herself...”

While Pam continues to talk, Dean can’t help but freeze. All of a sudden, he feels his blood begin to run cold. 

“Pamela—” He interrupts her, and watches as his friend looks over at him, concerned. “Casteel... or did you mean, _Castiel?”_

She shrugs. “It could’ve been Castiel, I didn’t really look at it for long, why does that—” 

He watches as the realisation dawns upon her, and suddenly the words she was speaking are long forgotten. She abandons her coffee on her desk as she marches over to Dean, a fury in her gaze. 

“Dean. Explain.” 

Dean gulps.

“You know how I went away for a couple of weeks after New Years 2008?”

Pamela narrows her eyes. “Yes, I do happen to recall those three weeks you dropped off the face of the planet and left me running around like a headless chicken…. _Continue.”_

Dean sighs. “Well, I ended up in some town called Eudora, in Kansas. And there I met him. Castiel. Cas.” 

The nickname rolls off Dean’s tongue like honey. He hasn’t spoken it since that time he spent in Eudora. But it was the name of a person that constantly haunts the back of Dean’s mind. A name he’ll never forget. 

“I… I spent my whole time there with him… we got along really well. He… well, I _trusted_ him, okay? So…”

Pam scowls.

“Are you telling me that before you even _went_ on tour, you told him who you were? After I specifically told you _not_ to do that?”

“Uhm… yes?”

Pam responds with a whack to Dean’s head. 

“Ouch, ow! I’m sorry, okay? I promise, apart from my family, he was the only other one to know. I just… I knew he wouldn’t tell, okay?”

“Dean, this is serious! It doesn’t matter if he was ‘the only other one to know’. You told us when we decided to go ahead and sign you on that you wanted a private life. You _know_ what we’ve had to do to achieve that. Your brother, aunt and cousin all had to sign NDAs. Where is this… _Cas’_ NDA? Hm? Come on, Dean, I thought you were better than that.”

“Look, I haven’t told anyone since. I know I shouldn’t have, but… I don’t regret it, okay? I trusted him. I kind of still do. Plus, he kept his promise. He hasn’t told anyone.”

“And how do you know?” Pam questions, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, there was Trenton. He never confirmed where he found your information. Who knows?”

Dean shoots Pam a look. “Trenton, the special forces guy who knew how to hack into government systems? No, we have _no_ idea how he found my personal details! Oh I know, _somehow_ , he managed to find Cas in the middle of nowhere, USA and _somehow,_ Cas was able to tell him all these details about me that I never even told him. Wow Pam, I think you cracked the code!”

By the time he finishes, the glare his manager is sending him is almost murderous. 

“Okay, _smartass._ Fine, so he didn’t tell. But why is he now all of a sudden sending you letters, claiming that he has miraculously conceived your child as if he’s the reincarnated Virgin Mary?” 

Dean chews on his lip. Pam huffs.

_“Dean.”_ She practically growls. 

“Well, on the last night, before I travelled home I… I kinda … slept with him?” 

Pam gives Dean another sharp whack to the head.

“Ow! _Stop that!_ … We weren’t like that. Well… he wasn’t just a fling. I mean he was, but… I guess there was more to it. I felt something with him? And… like I said, I trusted him with that secret. He knew that I was only there temporarily, that I was going to leave. We agreed to not contact each other. Yet… if what you’re saying he wrote is true…”

“Well, are you sure it’s the truth?” Pam asks, glancing over at the letters still perched neatly in the box. “You know the odds of male pregnancy are only like, what? 0.01% of the population?” 

“Yeah… yeah, I know.” Dean whispers, looking over at the box as well. “I know this sounds weird, but… I knew him, okay? I know what he was like, even though I wasn’t there for long, and… I gotta read those, okay Pam? It’s important.” 

Pam gives a slight shake of her head and holds her hands up. “Dean, I’m not in charge of you, okay? Well… I guess I kind of am, but not with this. If you want to read those, it’s your choice. I just don’t know if you’ll like what you’re gonna read... and whether you may be a bit too trusting.” 

He pauses for a moment, looking between the box and Pam’s wary expression. But in the end, his curiosity wins and Dean grabs the box from the bag. He heads back over to the couch, feeling the way Pam tracks his every move, and studies the envelopes. He sees that the letters are numbered 1-10 which presumably shows the order in which Dean is meant to read them. The first envelope is the one that has already been opened by Pam, with the letter sat folded on top of the others. 

With a deep breath Dean picks it up, carefully unfolds it, and begins to read. 

_Dear Dean,_


	2. One.

_February 16th, 2008_

_Dear Dean,_

_ I apologise for writing to you, if you are to ever receive this letter. I understand you’re extremely busy, performing and travelling internationally. They mentioned your tour on the morning news last week, even showed some clips of you! You gave a spectacular performance. Having never seen you perform, I can now understand why you have so many fans. Your raw talent is undeniable. _

_ I just want to state that I  _ ~~_ understood _ ~~ _ understand our agreement  _ — _ that our relationship was merely temporary. I promise you, I was never going to contact you again and I had no intentions of doing so. However, that was until this morning. _

_ Shortly after you left, I began to feel ill. It happened gradually, mostly in the past week or so. I didn’t expect it to be anything serious, especially with the current climate. But I began to have my suspicions as the dreaded feeling continued to last. I went and paid a visit to Dr. Singer today, you may remember him: balding? Surly? Has a beard? He was at the annual New Years barbecue shortly after you arrived here. Long story short, I had some tests done and I’m pregnant.  _

_ I know this may come as a shock, it does for me too. I swear to you that I am being honest, that I have no intentions of lying to you. I know that we used protection, but apparently it must have been defective. And seeing as you are the only man that I have had sexual relations with, you are the father. I know you may not believe me, I know what you may be thinking. However, I do not care for money nor fame. If you remember anything about me from those two weeks, you should at least know that. I don’t know how or when I will ever tell you, I have no idea if you will even receive this letter. Yet I felt that writing was the best way to try and tell you, so that if someday you hold this paper in your hands, you will know about your child.  _

_ I have an appointment in two days with a local OBGYN. I will be able to get a full confirmation there. Considering the date of conception, there isn’t a lot of information that I am able to gain at this point. However, I will keep you updated (I guess). _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Castiel or “Cas”_

By the time Dean finishes the letters, empty envelopes are strewn over the couch and his eyes are filled with unshed tears. 

Pam is perched on the arm chair across from him, her eyes watching him like a hawk. He doesn’t exactly remember when she moved from the desk to sit near him, but he guesses it was between the third and fourth letter. He reads the last letter a few more times before putting all of them back into the shoebox. He feels shaky and on edge — his heart is pounding in his ears. 

“Dean?” Pam prompts, shifting forward. “What did he say?” 

“I… uh…” Dean can’t find the words. His throat feels dry and hoarse, and his tongue feels as if it’s two sizes too big for his mouth. “I… I need to go.” 

“To where?” Pam furrows her eyebrows. “To  _ him? _ ” 

Dean doesn’t respond, but his silence is enough of an answer.

“Dean.” Pam states. “You have obligations here. You have meetings. Are you sure he’s telling the truth? What proof does he—” 

“He’s telling the truth.” Dean snaps and he watches as Pam’s mouth snaps closed. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. This isn’t what he expected walking into today. He wasn’t prepared for this. 

“I… I need you to get me on the next flight that will get me to Kansas the quickest.” He says, a hardness in his voice. Pam sends him a cautious look. He feels himself soften.

“Please, Pam,” he pleads. “I need you to trust me on this.” 

They stare at each other for a few moments, Pam obviously debating whether she should be helping him or not. However, after a few more seconds, she stands up with a huff. 

“Fine.” She declares, walking over to the desk. “But when you get back from… from  _ whatever  _ this is, Dean Winchester. I expect answers. Especially after I’m going to have to keep Adler and Smith off your tail.” 

Dean forces a small smile. “Thanks, Pamela.” 

Pam gets to work, her fingers tapping over the keyboard rapidly. He sits silently and waits, his hands clenched tightly around the shoebox. After five minutes have passed, Pam finally speaks up. 

“All Kansas airports are currently down,” Pamela says, frowning at the screen. “Strikes.”

Dean’s heart sinks. 

“I need to be on a plane today.” 

Pamela shoots him a look. “ _ I know, Dean.  _ All I’m saying is I can’t get you a direct flight to Kansas. The best I can do is a flight to St. Louis that leaves at 6pm tonight. It has a small stop over in Denver, but it should get you to St. Louis in the early hours of tomorrow. Then you can find your way from there. How does that sound?” 

Dean breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That sounds perfect.” 

Pam just purses her lips and continues to type, but Dean is sure he hears her mutter something along the lines of  _ “the things I do for you, Dean Winchester.”  _

_________

Somehow, for the first time in his life, Dean rocks up at the airport  _ early _ . And by early, Dean arrives exactly two hours and fifteen minutes before his scheduled departure time. 

Dean clutches his duffle bag close to him, the shoebox of letters bundled inside in the midst of Dean’s clothes and toiletries. He’s itching to read them all again, probably for the seventeenth time that day. He can’t remember how many times he read them back at his apartment, but it was  _ a lot _ . The words swirl around in his head and he can’t seem to make them stop. He doesn’t even know how he feels. There are too many emotions for him to pinpoint. He’s happy and he’s sad. He’s excited and he’s anxious. He’s confused, scared, worried. He doesn’t know what to think.

All he does know is that he has to get to Eudora. 

He pays the cabbie what he owes, plus a hefty tip. While the man showers him with thanks, Dean just tries to brush it off with a smile. He knows from personal experience that everybody struggles, some in more ways than others. He never expected to have as much money as he does now, which is more money than he possibly needs. He knows the best thing he can do is give it away where he can, especially to a cab driver that has to deal with LA residents 7 days a week. While he knows some people in LA are just your regular, working-class folks… he’s also witnessed many who definitely aren’t. He’s grateful that he moved to LA after being offered a contract at Lazarus Records, he doesn’t know how’d he get through one retail shift without ripping a customer’s head off. Some people just don’t know good ol’ manners. 

He heads straight for the service desk, his receipt printed out and clutched in his hand. Check in goes smoothly, considering that to everyone else there, Dean is just a regular guy. He thinks back to when he travelled with Coldplay, and the private flights they had to take. Sometimes Dean flew with them, other times he just flew economy class like most people. He can’t imagine Chris taking an economy flight… can’t imagine the vultures that’d be after him. Sometimes, it almost scares him to think about. 

After going through security, Dean ends up in a small waiting area by the windows, watching as planes roll in and out. He still has a while until boarding and knowing him, he’ll just get restless sitting there. With a sigh, he opens up the duffle bag and grabs the book laying on top, purposefully attempting to ignore the small shoebox. 

Dean had never been much of a reader, and truthfully, he still wasn’t. He’s far more interested in movies than he is in books, but it doesn’t stop him from picking up a book every now and then. When he was fifteen, he took the day off work to accompany his little brother to the local library. With barely any books or study materials at home, Sam had needed a day to scour the books in order to find information on his upcoming assignment. Dean, to this day, can’t remember what it was on, but he thinks it was some sort of reptile. 

Bored out of his mind, Dean had picked through the bookshelves, pausing until he found a particular title intriguing.  _ Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut.  _ The title piqued his interest, considering he had been a massive fan of horror-thrillers at the time. So, not having anything better to do, Dean plucked it off the shelf.

Of course, despite the title, it was nothing like Dean had imagined it to be. And yet, as he began to read the first page, he found he couldn’t put it down. While the language was different from what he was used to, and the story showcased the tragic truth of war, Dean found himself entranced with Vonnegut’s words. By the time Sam had finished studying, Dean had long finished the book.

It’s the same book he has in his hands now. He begins to read the first page, the words familiar and comforting. No one had ever spoken the words he’d thought in his head as eloquently as Vonnegut. About the true horrors of life, and the constant battle that living could be. While the book had been published long before his time, it still connected with him all those years later. With a little brother that Dean so desperately tried to shield from life’s struggles, and a father perfectly happy to leave them to that mess in the first place, Dean hadn’t had anyone else to turn to at that point. No one except Vonnegut and the journey of Billy Pilgrim. 

For the next several years, Dean visited the library on and off, always aiming for the copy of Slaughterhouse Five. Some Days it was there, some days it wasn’t. When it was, Dean would tuck himself into the far back corner of the room, reading the book over and over until eventually he couldn’t anymore. He’d always wanted a copy of his own, one for him to cherish — but he could never afford it. 

Not until the day he met Cas. 

It’s why he went inside the bookstore in the first place, a small niggling voice inside of him urging him to look. After his car ran out of gas, he’d only been in search of a place to stay, or a place to actually  _ get _ gas. However, the idyllic little bookstore, strangely named Paper Feathers, played on Dean’s curiosity. He felt drawn to it, and thus wandered inside. 

Looking at the book in his hands, he still remembers the scent of the bookstore. The smell of oak shelves, worn carpets and crisp paper. At the time, it reminded him of the library back in Sioux Falls, and it was enough for Dean to feel a small sense of comfort. He beelined straight for the classics section, and his fingers had danced over the books until he reached the  _ V  _ authors. Suddenly, a newer edition version of Slaughterhouse Five was clutched in his hands. 

He had turned to go to the counter, when a voice interrupted him.

_ “A Vonnegut novel? I don’t think I’ve come across another patron who has purchased his works in years. Are you an enthusiast?” _

To this day, the thought of Cas’ voice never fails to send a thrill up Dean’s spine. Soft, but rough. Hoarse but deep. It’s a voice that can stop anyone in their tracks, can make the hairs stand up on the back of their necks. Which was certainly what happened to Dean on that day. From that moment, Castiel had entranced him. Even before he had laid eyes on the man. 

Dean had never met anyone who had the same deep and rich understanding of  _ Slaughterhouse Five _ as him _ ,  _ not until he’d spoken to Cas. He’d never met someone who understood him more, or the story that Vonnegut had cleverly spun together. 

Cas was enlightening, and he was someone Dean had wanted to know better.

Dean remembers leaving the store that day feeling lighter than he had going in. He had his newly purchased book gripped tightly in his hands, and the details for an event Cas invited him to wedged inside. Later that night, lying in bed at the local bed and breakfast, was when he had noticed the small new addition to his book. Written on the first page were the words: 

_“If life were predictable it would cease to be life, and be without flavor.” – Eleanor Roosevelt_

It was then, when Dean had felt such calm and bliss, that he decided to extend his stay in Eudora. 

Dean now looks at the quote, written in the familiar handwriting, with a touch of sadness. The words remind him of the choices he’d made to get to this point, and the things he’s already missed out on. The words don’t bring to Dean the happiness they once did.

Yet, if there is any certainty to Dean’s future; He wants to feel that way again. 


	3. Two.

_March 24th, 2008_

_Dear Dean,_

_ This morning’s newspaper informed me that you are performing in South Africa, how exciting! I’ve always wanted to travel there, but then again, I’ve always wanted to travel everywhere! However, having never left the country and not owning a passport, I suppose I might have to live a little vicariously through you. Well, sort of… I guess. _

_ I am currently nearing the end of my first trimester and things are running as smoothly as I could hope. Well, that’s what Dr. Visyak, my obstetrician, tells me. I’ve been unwell these past few weeks, apparently my morning sickness isn’t limited to the morning. It hasn’t been an enjoyable experience.  _

_ But they’re growing, slowly. They’re about as big as a lime, apparently. At least that’s what the ridiculous pregnancy site tells me. It’s hard to think that something so small and new is growing inside of me. It’s actually quite scary. I’m due October 8th, which feels too far away. _

_ I do wish you were here, I wish you knew. I haven’t told my family yet, I couldn’t imagine what they would say. My parents surely won’t be pleased, nor will some of my siblings. I guess that’s the price I pay for being a part of a particularly religious family. But I know at least my brother Jimmy and his family will be happy for me, and possibly Gabriel. I’m glad that I will at least have them. _

_ I’ve only told Chuck and Hannah at the bookshop, considering they have needed to do extra work for me when I’ve been indisposed. They’re both thrilled for me, as far as I can tell. They know you’re the father. Well, I presume they know. We were quite close for those two weeks, and considering I am keeping quiet about you, they can only assume. But they don’t really know who you are, so I don’t think it’s something to concern ourselves with. _

_ I have no idea what I will tell my family, but I will keep it a secret, I won’t tell them yet. Not until you know. _

_ Enjoy South Africa for me. I hope the rest of your tour has been going well. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

Dean spends the next hour of his waiting time reading the first few chapters of his novel as well as continuously messaging his brother. Sam, who only just started an associate job a few weeks prior, already feels overwhelmed with the intensity of the workload. The messages he sends Dean range from “Pity Party for One”, to pictures of cats wearing sombreros. Needless to say, Dean is worried for his brother.

Yet through their exchange, Dean doesn’t mention his travel. With the amount of work Sam has to do, he isn’t worried about him travelling down for a surprise visit. Plus, considering his family doesn’t know about Cas’ existence — he feels this is a story he needs to tell them in person.

So instead, he just entertains his little brother and helps him through the minor mental breakdown he’s currently having. 

Finally at 5:30, boarding begins, and Dean is first in line. The flight attendant scans him through, and he makes his way through the terminal and onto the plane. He finds it amusing that the thought of flying on a plane is so mundane to him now. He thinks back to when he was a teen and the thought of flying terrified him. It still did, all the way up until his first tour last year, when he knew he had to fly on a long commercial flight to Europe. However, after some time, flying became a regular occurrence. Having travelled all over the world, Dean just had to become accustomed.

He ends up finding his seat somewhere in the centre of the plane — a middle seat on the right aisle. Considering he’s the first one there, it gives him plenty of time to place his duffle in the overhead compartment and get comfy in his seat. He’s just picked the exact right album he wants to listen to  _ (Metallica, The Black Album)  _ and is about to put his headphones on, before he’s interrupted by a voice. 

“Hi honey, sorry to bother you, but I’m sitting in that seat there.” 

Dean looks up to see a woman, seemingly in her mid to late 60s, giving him a bright smile and pointing to the window seat. 

“Oh, sorry ma’am,” Dean says, immediately putting his headphones and iPod on the aisle seat. The woman laughs. 

“Oh please, call me Mildred. Ma’am is just too formal… and it makes me feel old,” she tells him with a small wink. Dean chuckles. 

“Mildred it is. Would you like me to put your bag up for you?” he asks. Dean can just imagine what his Aunt Ellen would say if he didn’t offer. While Ellen is nothing like a stereotypical housewife promoting 1950’s etiquette (she owns a bar, swears like a sailor, and can handle a shotgun), if there was one thing she taught both Dean and his brother, it was how to be a gentleman. 

Midlred smiles. “Well, aren’t you sweet. If it isn’t any trouble?”

Dean assures her it isn’t and loads her small travel bag up before helping her to the window seat. They both get comfortable and Dean picks up his iPod, ready to play his music when he is again interrupted by a _thud!_ next to him. He looks to see a woman, probably a few years younger than him, dropping her handbag onto the seat next to him, while placing her other bag into the compartment. She’s wearing a pastel pink top and simple denim jeans, with a series of bangles all up her wrist. He notices her skin is orange tinted, probably from picking the wrong tanning shade. Once her bag is up, she plonks down in the aisle seat — which is when she first notices Dean. 

Dean is immediately on edge at the way she goes from tired traveller to flirty schoolgirl in a single moment. She whips her hair so that it’s behind her shoulder and sends Dean a big, overdramatic smile. 

“Hi there,” she greets. “Guess we’re going to be travelling together for the flight.” 

_ Obviously,  _ Dean wants to say, but instead he just forces a smile.

“I suppose we are,” he replies, before attempting to excuse himself to listen to his music. However, before he can, the girl is talking again.

“So you’re travelling to Denver too?” she asks, angling her body so that she can look at him. “My cousin is getting married on Saturday so I’m travelling there tonight. What about you?”

Dean sighs,  _ kill me now _ .

Yet, he decides to keep up the small talk, hoping that the woman eventually drops the conversation.

“Just passing through,” Dean replies, noticing the way the woman’s face drops. “Visiting family in Kansas.” 

“Oh,” she says, before smiling again. “That’s such a shame! Denver’s beautiful, especially in the fall. The place where my sister’s having her wedding is so pretty, a small country acreage about an hour outside of the city. You should see it! It has a huge manor in the centre with marble pillars. They have horses there too, and my sister is planning to arrive at her wedding by a _horse drawn carriage_ , which I think is honestly _perfect_. They also have—”

“Excuse me,” Mildred, the woman from before, interrupts them.

_ Oh God, what now?  _ Dean thinks, beginning to miss the many times he got to fly in private jets. 

“Sorry to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could swap with me?” she says, directing her attention towards Dean. “My daughter booked this ticket for me, and she forgot that I’m a little bit of a nervous flyer. If it isn’t too much of a hassle?”

Before Dean can reply, the girl speaks up. 

“I don’t mind swapping with you!” she exclaims, obviously wanting to keep Dean in the middle seat so she could still talk to him. Mildred responds with a forced, albeit, fake smile.

“I’d feel much more comfortable in the middle seat, as it feels a lot safer.” 

Before the girl can speak again, Dean starts to stand. 

“Of course, I honestly don’t mind ma… I mean,  _ Mildred. _ ” 

She laughs. “Thank you dear, I really appreciate it.”

They turn to look at the girl, who huffs and flounces out of her chair and into the aisle. They all scoot out, before Dean heads back in, followed by Mildred. By the time they're sitting, the woman sits back down and immediately pulls out her iPod and earphones, a scowl on her face. Dean can’t help but feel slightly amused, and thanks his lucky stars that Mildred is not only observant, but a  _ genius.  _

The captain announces that soon they will be beginning their ascent, so Dean finally places his headphones on, ready to drown out the noise of the engines. By the time they are rolling onto the tarmac, Dean has listened his way through  _ Holier than Thou  _ and  _ Sad but True _ , with the opening chords of  _ Nothing Else Matters  _ beginning to play. 

Despite having listened to it many,  _ many  _ times in the past year and a half, the current circumstances give the song a whole new meaning. It isn’t just the lyrics, the simple, but meaningful words that create a more emotional atmosphere to the song as a whole. It’s the memory that springs to mind, of his time back in Eudora, when he first shared the song with Cas. 

Dean had been there for a week and they’d been sitting in Cas’ house, hanging out. They’d been on the topic of music, from what Dean remembers, when Cas brought up that he’d never heard a Metallica song. 

_ “Are you kidding me?”  _ he’d asked Cas with an incredulous tone. 

_ “Religious family, Dean,”  _ Cas reminded him. 

It’s what led both of them to sit in the impala parked in Cas’ driveway, the metallica tape blasting through the speakers. When  _ Nothing Else Matters  _ began to play, Cas had hummed thoughtfully.

_ “It’s different,”  _ he said,  _ “to their other music.”  _

They’d listened quietly and by the time the six minute song finished, Cas had a smile on his face. 

_ “I like that song the best,”  _ he told Dean. Dean replied that he hadn’t even listened to the whole album yet. Cas shrugged.

_ “I don’t think I’ll change my mind.”  _

_ “Why?” _

Cas laughed.  _ “It’s about being yourself, I can’t think of a better message to promote. I’m definitely biased, considering I’m sentimental, and have the tendency to pretend to be someone I’m not. I feel most people try to hide behind a lens, forcing themselves to do something or be someone else, whether due to the standards set by their family, or the standards set by their friends. Wait… sorry, I’m going off on a tangent. I guess what I was trying to say is I like the song. It has a positive meaning, wouldn’t you agree?” _

He hasn’t thought of Cas’ words for a while and suddenly the lyrics of the song begin to have a weight on him. Because Cas was right. 

He still  _ is  _ right. 


	4. Three.

_June 12th, 2008_

_Dear Dean,_

_ I’ve almost officially hit the six month mark. It’s hard to believe how much has happened since I last wrote to you. It’s also hard to believe how much they’ve grown during that time. They’re the size of a cantaloupe now, which yes, is according to the website I now frequent far too often for my own good. I had an ultrasound two days ago and you can clearly see them now, they’re starting to actually look like a human, which is quite remarkable. Dr. Visyak asked if I wanted to know the sex of the baby, but I didn’t. I’d rather just wait until they’re born, much to the dismay of my brother Gabriel and my niece Claire.  _

_ My parents aren’t particularly thrilled about their grandchild, and they are no longer on speaking terms with me. I can’t say I’m surprised, as they are particularly stubborn individuals. My older brother Lucifer is not speaking to me either, but he is the golden child of our family so I know he would not want to disappoint our parents. To them I have committed crimes worse than death. I had sexual relations with a man, prior to marriage, and now am to ‘birth a child out of wedlock’. At least, that is what my mother yelled at me over the phone. I find it quite ironic that they resent me over this, especially since they knew I was born with the gene. I feel they just assumed that I would never do anything that could get me pregnant, that I wouldn’t carry a child that my body is biologically capable of having. I guess they were wrong.  _

_ My eldest brother Michael really couldn’t care either way. He sent me his congratulations over a text message but hasn’t spoken to me since. I’m not bothered, really. Like I mentioned to you all those months ago, he is not a particularly great brother. I think you seemed more surprised that it was Lucifer who was the golden child, considering his name.  _

_ My brother Gabriel is thrilled about the baby, he flies here to visit me once a month. I think he may linger around once they’re born, and I’ll have a hard time making him leave. I love him, I really do, but a couple of days once a month is already hard enough. He’s eccentric… and slightly overbearing. My twin, Jimmy, visits often enough, he only lives thirty minutes away in Lawrence. He sometimes brings his wife Amelia, and Claire, their daughter. Claire is probably the most excited out of everyone. My parents have recently cut contact with him too, despite the fact that he’s a well-established doctor with the perfect nuclear family. However, it was a very “us or him” ultimatum that they placed upon him. It warms me to know that my brother cares for me enough to lose his parents over it.  _

_ I see that I have written a lot, so I will cut it off here, yet as always, I will keep you updated. But I almost forgot to say congratulations, I saw that you are now the opening act for Coldplay, that is brilliant! I hope you are enjoying the new tour in Europe, that is where you are currently, right? _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

  
  


Once the plane has levelled in the sky and people start moving about again, Dean takes his headphones off. He glances a quick look at the woman on the aisle as he worries that she might still try to spark up a conversation with him. However, he notices that her eyes are closed and she has her earphones in her ears. He assumes she is asleep. 

He taps Mildred on the shoulder. She looks up from her book, flashing Dean a smile when their gazes meet. 

“Um, thank you for that,” he murmurs, subtly indicating to the woman. “It was just… a bit much.”

Mildred laughs quietly. “Yes I could see that. Some people are not really good at noticing the obvious, are they?”

Dean chuckles. “No they’re really not… um, my name’s Dean. Dean Winchester.” 

He holds his hand out, which Mildred is quick to accept. 

“Mildred Baker. It’s a pleasure to meet you Dean,” she replies with a soft smile. 

“You too.” Dean says before they let go. 

“So, you are going home to visit family in Kansas?” Mildred asks. “I happened to overhear your conversation earlier.”

Dean forces a small smile and nods. “Yes… it’s a visit that’s been long overdue. What about you? Travelling to see family as well?”

“Well, returning home to see family, actually. I live in Denver with my daughter and her family.” Mildred explains. “I actually just went to Los Angeles to meet with some music agent. He apparently stumbled across my old records and wanted to put my music on.. Um…  _ the apple store?”  _

“Oh… iTunes… right,” Dean responds. He feels the curiosity surging through him. “So… old records, huh? You a musician?” 

Mildred laughs. “Yes, back in the day, I was. Well, I was a tribute singer for the great Patsy Cline. I started out performing locally in some establishments close to my hometown. But when word went out about my performances, well… I ended up travelling the country and singing in every state. That tour definitely brings some fond memories.” 

“How long did you tour for?” 

“Oh, only a couple of months. They wanted me to tour for longer, but I returned home instead.” 

“Why? Were you not enjoying it?”

Mildred shakes her head. “Oh no, I  _ loved _ it. But I had someone waiting for me back home. My husband, God rest his soul, wanted to marry me and start a family with me. But he came from a working-class family, and in order for us to live independently together, we would have both had to have jobs to make ends meet. So I either continued my life touring, which was filled with many uncertainties, or I returned home to be with him. And— oh goodness... I’m sorry dear, I’m talking your ear off.” 

“No, don’t worry about it, I’m actually interested,” he assures her. He doesn’t convey why deep down, he’s really interested. He doesn’t want to explain how he’s hoping Mildred’s words will give him guidance. “How did you decide?” 

“Well, it’s actually quite simple. When I was a little girl, my mother once told me that the true secret to living a long and happy life, is to follow your heart,” she states. “So I took a good, long listen to my own, and it told me that I loved my husband and the prospect of creating a family together, far more than touring. So I chose that, ended my tour and went home to become a teacher. And you know what? It was the best decision I ever made.” 

She turns to face him more, her gaze deep and sincere. 

“I know it’s not for everyone, starting a family. Don’t think I’m trying to make it seem like all women should be mothers. My daughter does say I put my foot in my mouth sometimes. I just ultimately think it was the best decision for me. While for others, touring and being an artist is the life for them. Sometimes, they’re able to do both.” 

She leans back into her chair and sends Dean a small smile.

“But sometimes, you just know what you need to do, and ultimately it’s all about following your heart. Once you do that, all the rest just figures itself out.” 

“But… how do you listen to your heart?” he asks. 

Mildred lets out a quiet laugh and shrugs slightly. “It’s different for everyone. For me, it was about tuning in on my feelings. What did I yearn for more?  _ Long for?  _ I didn’t long to be on stage and sing, not the same way I longed to be in the arms of my husband. Sometimes it’s thinking about what your heart desires more, and once you do that, you just  _ know.” _

Their conversation is interrupted by a flight attendant offering them refreshments. Dean is grateful for it, as it gives him a moment to clear his thoughts. Mildred’s words bounce around in his head, the words:  _ Follow your heart,  _ echoing over and over. 

The problem is, he knows what his heart wants. He knows what it yearns for and  _ longs  _ for.

He’s just scared to admit it.


	5. Four.

_September 18th, 2008_

_Dear Dean,_

_I’m at thirty eight weeks now and in two weeks, they’ll be born. My spare room has been changed into a nursery, all with neutral colors because as my brother Gabriel says, I am “just too damn stubborn to find out the gender”. In reality, it’s because I don’t want_ _my_ _our child to grow up with constrictive gender norms thrown at them. I want them to grow up happy and healthy, despite what toys, colors or clothes society would prescribe them because of their gender. When I was a child, I always loved the thought of playing dress up. But unlike my cousin Anna, I was unable to wear the princess dresses or high heels. Apparently, it would have made me a sinful queer, according to my parents. Well, I turned out to be one anyway, so I guess it can’t all be blamed on gender norms, can it?_

_The website says that they’re the size of a squash now and they’re kicking all the time. It’s hard to believe that something deemed so small, can put that much force into a kick. I have to urinate constantly and I’m always kept up between the hours of 1:00-3:00 in the morning due to it. But it’s nice to know that they’re healthy, and to know that soon I will be able to hold them in my arms. I can’t wait to meet them. I hope that one day, you will be able to meet them too._

_It was my birthday today, I celebrated at my home with my family. Jimmy, Amelia and Claire, along with Gabriel. Even Chuck and Hannah made an appearance. It was nice and small, just the way I like it. I was gifted with many items for the baby, such as clothing and_ _boxes_ _full of diapers. Jimmy and Amelia assured me that I would go through them fast and that a plentiful supply was necessary. Gabriel gifted me with some inappropriate baby clothing, but he also gifted some great toys that I’m sure they will grow to love once they are a little older._

_~~They keep asking who the father is. I’m not sure what to tell them.~~ _

_I turned 30 today, it’s hard to believe that I finally reached that milestone. Last year, I thought by the time I was 30 that I was still going to be single and the thought of a child? Out of the question. I might still be without a partner, but it’s nice to know I’m going into this new era of my life with a new addition to my family. I love them, Dean. I love them so much. And I long for you to be here, so that you can love them just as much as I love them. I have a feeling if you knew, if I were able to reach you, you’d be here. I hope so, at least._

_You turn 30 soon too, in the new year, am I correct? I’m sure your birthday will be impressive, much more of an affair than mine. I also saw from reading a magazine (OBGYN clinics have a long wait time) that you have an album coming out soon, as well. How can you record an album_ and _tour? That sounds difficult. Either way, I’m sure it will be as successful as the first. After all, no one can deny your talent._

_I hope your tour is still going smoothly._

  
  


  
  


_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

  
  
  


Dean spends the next hour of his flight talking with Midlred, finding that the woman has some fascinating stories to tell. He also finds himself interested in her stories about being a mother, as well as a grandmother. He’s new to his whole parenting thing, he might as well look for all the help he can get. He doesn’t tell Mildred that of course, the words _“I’m a father”,_ still feel trapped in his throat. He can’t admit it properly, not quite yet. 

After the plane lands and before the two of them disembark, Mildred writes her address down on a napkin. 

“With emails and all this technology lately, I feel we’ve lost touch with personal notes,” she tells him. Dean smiles softly, thinking that is exactly something Cas would say. 

They go their separate ways at the gate, and Dean is thrilled to see that the woman in the aisle seat is now nowhere to be seen. His other ticket lists the connecting gate, so he uses the signs to lead him there. His connecting flight isn’t for an hour, but with the airport practically empty because of how late it is, Dean feels it’s best he waits there.

That is until he notices the screen displaying flight times. 

**CURRENT TIME:** 21:25

**DEPARTING T0 FLIGHT GATE TIME STATUS**

St. Louis F9 679 G12 23:00 DELAYED UNTIL 6:00+1

This is a nightmare. 

He immediately backtracks to the service desk, where a bored-looking woman types at a computer. 

“Hi, um, excuse me?” He stammers out. She looks up at him with tired eyes. Dean can see that she’d rather be anywhere but here with him. 

“I’m meant to be getting on a connecting flight to St. Louis, flight uh…”

“F9 439, the one that’s delayed?” She cuts him off. “Don’t worry, you aren’t the first one to complain today. Not even the first one to complain this hour. I’m sorry sir, but there was a mechanical issue with the plane, and it needs to stay grounded until we can get a team of engineers to fix it. The next plane we can get to replace it won’t arrive until 5am tomorrow morning.” 

Dean gulps. “Well is there another flight I can get on?” 

The woman sighs and shakes her head. “Last few seats on the midnight flight have already been taken. I’m sorry sir, you are just going to have to wait.” 

Dean sighs but nods, thanking her for her time. Despite his frustration, he knows yelling at the poor airport attendant isn’t going to fix anything. He steps away from the counter so that the next person can voice their complaints. He looks over towards the gate he’s meant to be at, wondering what the hell he’s going to do for the next ten hours. Should he read? Try buying a couple of books? Listen to his assortment of albums?

He decides to get a cheeseburger instead.

* * *

  
  


_Dean has dreamt of this night his entire life._

_The stage of Madison Square Garden is bright and open, with big, overhead lights and a large screen as the backdrop. The screen has his name bolded in white, with a black background:_

DEAN SMITH 

_The crowd is alive and loud, all of them chanting his name as they await his entrance. He waits backstage by the curtain, with his fedora tight on his head, and his jacket secure around his torso._

_“You ready?” Pam asks him, a grin on her face._

_“You bet,” He replies with a smile. He should feel nervous, but he doesn’t. Excitement and adrenaline are pumping through him, and he’s bouncing in anticipation. He’s ready to perform, to finally live this dream of his._

_Finally, the beginning chords begin and the lights turn off, causing an eruption of screams across the entire arena. Dean walks out onto the stage in the dark and stands at the microphone, waiting for his cue to sing. Eventually, a light shines on him and he sings the first lines:_

_“Hold the day, make it through, and fall into the light.”_

_He hears the crowd’s roars, and a small smile forms on his face as he continues to belt the lyrics, the same song he recorded in his bedroom all those years ago. As the music continues to swell mid-song, he takes the time to look out at the crowd, at all the excited faces. He still manages to keep his head down and not fully visible. That is, until he spots a familiar set of blue eyes staring back at him. He locks eyes with them, as they gaze at him from the center of the front row._

_Cas is there, wearing his familiar white button-down shirt and denim jeans. His hair is disheveled, and his face is emotionless, apart from the haunting feeling his eyes give. That’s when Dean notices the infant in Cas’ arms, hidden by a soft wool blanket, wrapped in a bundle. Dean keeps trying to sing,_

_“... to keep from drowning.”_

_Yet, the words get stuck in his throat. He watches as Cas slowly begins to disappear into the crowd, further and further away until Dean can’t see him anymore. Dean leans into the microphone._

_“Cas!” He shouts, trying to get his friend to come back, to emerge from the sea of people. Dean lurches forward, having the urge to make his way through the crowd to find him. However, suddenly the light is blinding and the music stops, replaced by hushed whispers and screaming shouts._

_“That isn’t Dean Smith!” one shouts. “That’s Dean Winchester!”_

_Dean can’t make out the crowd, but he looks behind him at the screen to only see his face plastered there._

**_DEAN WINCHESTER IS DEAN SMITH!_ ** _It proclaims. It hits like a bomb in his chest, and he can feel the bile rising in his throat. He finds himself making his way off the stage, wanting to get away from the lights and the people and the screams and the shock. He wants to find a room he can just crawl into and hide._

_But suddenly, he can’t find the exit. Where is it? Wasn’t it just here? All he can see is light. And he can feel the heat from the lights on every inch of his exposed skin. The screams are still there, but are they getting louder? His heart is pounding and his breathing is heavy and he just needs to leave, needs to leave, needs to leave needstoleaveneedstoleaveneedstoleaveheyareyouokayhey_ —

  
  


“Hey!” A voice breaks Dean out of his dream and he startles awake, glaring at the intruder who dares to disturb his sleep. He realises it’s a man about his own age, staring at him with concerned eyes. He’s got to be a couple of inches shorter than Dean and at least ten pounds lighter. He’s like a twig, small and frail. Dean knows that if the man were to try anything, he could easily beat him. 

“Sorry, man. I didn’t want to interrupt your sleep or anything,” He says, raising his arms in defence. “I swear, but you looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Dean blinks twice before sighing and nodding, sitting up slightly. 

“Yeah I guess you could say that.” He admits, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“You want to talk about it?” The man replies. Dean looks at him, and sees that he _genuinely_ seems interested. Dean can see there’s a kind sort of innocence to him. 

“Nah, man. But thanks, I guess.”

They’re both silent for a moment, until the stranger decides to speak up again.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you? I find that the chairs are far worse for my back than the floor and this spot you got here is nice and cosy.” 

Dean looks around at the corner he tucked himself into before he fell asleep. It was about 10 feet from the waiting area, and only about 3 feet from the giant window overlooking the tarmac and runway outside. Earlier, after satisfying his hunger with a small McDonald’s meal, he found himself wandering over to this corner in an attempt to get away from other people. He must have fallen asleep at one point while reading his book. 

He spots the Vonnegut book on the ground next to him and picks it up, stuffing it into his duffle bag.

“Sure,” he tells the stranger, his instinct telling him that his man wasn’t some pickpocket or axe-murderer targeting him. “Free country.” 

The man beams and immediately sits himself down, placing his own duffle off to the side. 

“So.. uh…” Dean begins, causing the man’s attention to fall back on him. “You on the St. Louis flight too?”

He grins but shakes his head. “Nah, I was on the red-eye to Wisconsin. But because of your flight hiccup, it pushed us back as well.” 

Dean winces. “Sorry dude, that’s gotta suck.” 

He shrugs. “It could be worse. I mean, there was that time I took my uncle Timmy’s car out for a joyride, and got caught in a snowstorm. Now _that_ was a bad time.” 

Dean holds back a snort, staring wide eyed at the guy. “Why on Earth would you go out for a joyride when it’s snowing? Hadn’t you ever heard of black ice?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “Of course I had, but I was fifteen, whaddya expect? I was lucky that I crashed it right by the local police station. I grew up in a small town, so they heard the sound as clear as a bell. I mean, I got in _a lot_ of trouble, but it beats freezing to death.” 

“True.”

The man holds out his hand, “Garth, Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth.”

“Wow, _that_ is a name.”

“I’m aware.”

Dean takes his hand in his own, shaking it. “Dean… Dean Winchester.”

They shake one more time before letting go, hands returning to their sides. Garth decides to keep the conversation going.

“So Dean, you’re heading to St. Louis? You got family there?” He asks. 

“Got family in Kansas,” Dean tells him. “Been away for work.”

_Not technically a lie._ He thinks. 

“Ah, so you got a family waiting home for you? Wife? Kids?” 

Dean swallows, not really sure how to answer. It’s not like he can exactly say: _no, I have a friend/ex-sex-friend that I haven’t spoken to in almost two years! Oh, and our child that I’ve never met and didn’t even know about until today. Yep, that’s who I’ve got waiting for me!_

“Yeah, my uh… wife and our child,” Dean says, deciding to go for the half-truth. While he wouldn’t exactly be opposed to admitting his sexuality to a stranger, he doesn’t exactly want to out Cas as one of the men who carries the gene. With it being so rare, he figured that it wouldn’t be fair to focus a whole spectacle over it. 

“Awesome! You got a boy or a girl?” Garth says with his continuous smile.

“A girl,” Dean murmurs with a small smile. “I have a daughter.”


	6. Five.

_October 5th, 2008_

_Dear Dean,_

_ Two days ago, on October 3rd, I gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. _

_ While not exactly on the due date, she was born perfect and with no complications. Dr. Visyak told me that she was just ready to meet me, about as excited as I was to meet her. Both of us were released from the hospital yesterday and had a very restless night at home. I finally realise what the many books and movies have told me about newborns is true. She doesn't like to sleep, not at all. I think I’ll have to have a constant supply of coffee at home.  _

_ I named Jimmy and Amelia her godparents, I hope you don’t mind. I would have loved it if we had a god parent from each side, but you’re not here. You’re actually in the Netherlands currently, performing your last European concerts of the tour. At least, that’s what some of the nurses were saying during my time in the hospital. I still can’t believe you are travelling around Europe with one of the most highly acclaimed artists in the world. I know we may have not known each other long, but I’m proud of you Dean.  _

_ I wish you were here. But I figure that with Jimmy and Amelia as her godparents, I can’t screw up our daughter too badly. That still feels funny to say, even if it’s just me writing it.  _ _ Our daughter. _ _ All ours.  _

_ She was born at six pounds, eight ounces. From what I can make out, she seems to have tiny tufts of dark hair, so I know she’ll probably have dark hair like me. Her eyes are blue, but Dr. Visyak tells me they can change. She may have green eyes like you. I actually hope she does. It’s hard to tell who she looks like more, being only 2 days old. She’s still so small and I hold her in my arms almost constantly. She’s sleeping currently, otherwise I don’t think I would’ve let go of her long enough to write you this letter. If you meet her one day, you will know. The love I have for her, it’s incomprehensible. _

_ I realise I haven’t mentioned her name to you. I decided it almost immediately, only a few minutes after she was in my arms. I had multiple names prepared, obviously. But for a girl, I was tossing up between two. However, as soon as I saw her I knew.  _

_ Her name is Grace Mary Novak. I don’t know why the name Grace, but it suits her, and personally, I think she likes it. It was in one of the baby books I sell, one that I had curiously plucked off the shelf after closing. It comes from the latin word “gratia”, meaning “favor or thanks.” It has a religious background, many used it to reference God’s love for mankind. I, on the other hand, want the name to represent how thankful I am for her. She’s the light of my life.  _

_ Mary was an obvious choice and I really hope you don’t mind that I named her after your late mother. You spoke highly of her and how much her death impacted upon you. I wanted something to pay my respect to her, a name with meaning. I hope that one day, Grace will grow up to be as wonderful as you are. As wonderful as your mother raised you to be.  _

_ I wanted her last name to be hyphenated. She is both of ours, after all. However, for me to do that, I would have had to list you as a father. And I can’t do that, without an acknowledgement of paternity. So for now, she only has me listed as her parent. I hope to one day change that, of course.  _

_ She is beginning to stir, so I will have to leave this letter here. I am looking forward to hearing about where you perform next.  _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

“Same!” Garth exclaims, “I’ve got just the one at the moment as well, but my wife Bess and I are definitely wanting more. We’re both family people. What about you and your wife?”

Dean swallows. “Yeah… um, maybe eventually? We haven’t really talked about it. We’re both kind of happy with just Grace at the moment.” It’s the first time he’s said his daughter's name out loud and it brings goosebumps to his skin.

“Grace, that’s her name?” Garth asks.

Dean nods.

“Grace was an option for our daughter too, but we ended up going with Gertie. It suits her, I think. She's three, and such a firecracker, tears up almost everything in the house. Gives Bess a headache almost everyday, but she loves her to bits. We both do, she’s our miracle child.”

Dean frowns, “Miracle child?” 

“Yeah, we discovered quickly into our marriage that Bess only had a small chance of being able to carry a child, something like a  _ hostile uterus  _ or whatever. We were pretty torn up about it. But we kept trying and eventually, we decided to go with a surrogate. And the doctors put in eight eggs and in the end only one attached which was our Gertie. But with all that work, we aren’t sure if we want to go through that again. We’re definitely thinking about the adoption route.”

Dean smiles, “That’s great. I was adopted, well… kinda, I was adopted at seventeen. But still, it’s a good thing.”

“Yeah! I think adoption’s cool! I think we just want to wait a couple years until Gertie’s older. We want to spend as much time with her as possible before we bring another child into the family. Not only is she a handful, but… It sounds sort of messed up, but we’re not quite ready to share our love for her yet.”

In a weird way, Dean understands what Garth means. He hasn’t met his daughter, knows only a small amount of information from Cas, and he hasn’t even seen a picture of her. Yet, there is this longing, this bundle of warmth deep in his gut. A part of him knows he already loves this child of his, and a part of him is scared to admit that. 

Plus, he knows the way Cas speaks about her; with the weight of so much adoration, it seems almost physically impossible to be carrying it around. He can see where Garth is coming from. 

“I understand,” Dean replies. “I guess it’s just that feeling of being a father I guess.”

“You’re right about that,” Garth laughs. 

“What’s your favourite thing about being a dad?” Dean asks, “I’m just… you know… curious about what other dads think.” 

Garth is silent for a moment and Dean wonders if he’s pried too far, but then the strange man laughs and slaps Dean on the arm.

“ _ Amigo!  _ That’s my favourite question to be asked!” he practically yells. Dean winces. “There’s  _ so  _ many things, which I’m sure are the same for you. I mean, I love building blocks with her. Because her favourite thing to do is to knock them down, and her laugh is just so dang cute. Oh, and then there are the sock puppet shows. Her favourite sock puppet character is Mr. Fizzles, because I think she likes it when her daddy talks in a strange voice. Oh, and I love taking her to the playground. She could stay on the swings all day, and sometimes I have to bribe her to get her home.” 

Dean watches as Garth’s face changes, his expression looking almost wistful. 

“But it’s funny, cause we always talk about the things we love about parenting, but not the things we hate. Like how Gertie throws the  _ biggest  _ tantrums. They always warn you ‘bout those terrible twos, but never about the terrible  _ threes.  _ She tears the house apart everyday, it’s always a mess every time I come home from work. Oh, and don’t get me  _ started  _ on when her favourite show is cancelled. Every time, she has a complete meltdown. And those moments are the times that make me just… you know…  _ sometimes,  _ regret coming home for the night.”

Garth sighs and Dean doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t expect the guy to go this deep and now he’s at a loss for words. Luckily, Garth continues to talk.

“But you know what my favourite memory is?” he says quietly. “Every night, once she’s calmed down, whether from her playing or her tantrum… I read her a book before bed. It’ll just be the two of us on her bed and she’ll be all tucked in under the covers. As I get through the book, she’ll eventually rest her head on my shoulder, you know? And it’s at that time when it’s quiet, just the two of us together, that it makes those tantrums and meltdowns all worth it.”

He sends Dean a wistful smile.

“When people talk about being parents, they don’t usually talk about the bad parts. But they also don’t talk about how the simplest moments with your kid can bring you the most joy.”

Dean nods. “Yeah… I understand.” 

They ended up having a small conversation about their lives. Dean tries to keep it simple with stories about his life back home and talks about his brother and law school and his Aunt Ellen’s bar and restaurant in Sioux Falls. Garth talks about his job as a dentist (turns out he is in Denver for a  _ dentist conference…  _ Dean shudders at the thought) and the cattle ranch that his father-in-law owns in Wisconsin. 

Eventually Garth decides to sleep and Dean, who is wide awake, promises to make sure no one tries to knick anything. As the man next to him sleeps, Dean rests his head against the walls, Garth’s earlier words swirling in his head. He’s still struggling to accept that he has a daughter, a few states over in Eudora, probably curled up in a wooden crib at this time, sleeping. He tries to imagine Cas with her, rocking her to sleep or reading to her like Garth does. Yet, his mind lingers, and he suddenly imagines himself in a few years; in a pink princess room, with a chocolate-haired, green-eyed girl in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He wonders if that will be his life, eventually.

And he realises, that deep down, it’s _that_ future that he yearns for. 


	7. Six.

_November 14th, 2008_

_Dear Dean,_

_ Grace is officially six weeks old today. She is doing well, she had a check up a week ago with her pediatrician. Dr. Blake, or Sarah, as she asks me to call her, is lovely. She’s good with Grace and has a wonderful nurse called Lisa. They’re both parents themselves so it’s comforting to know that they understand all my struggles, along with my moments of worry. I go back in a few weeks for Grace’s two month vaccinations. I really hope you are not anti-vaccination, because if you are, I’m afraid you have been misinformed.  _

_ She’s such a happy baby, apart from the issues with her lack of sleep. She does sleep, just not in the time-frame that I would prefer her to. I am slowly becoming nocturnal, spending my nights awake and my days asleep. Hannah and Chuck have been amazing in my absence, keeping up-to-date with all the new shipments. With Christmas soon, most people travel to my store to get the rarer editions of certain books for their loved ones. Because we’re getting busier, I’ve actually had to hire two college students from KU to help out with the sales aspect of the store, while Hannah and Chuck take over my duties in administration and finance.  _

_ As for the family, they are all overjoyed with Grace. Gabriel finally left two weeks ago, after I practically had to force him out the door. He ate all my food, and hogged my couch as well as my child. Towards the end, I barely got to hold her unless I was feeding her. Needless to say, I was quite irate. Jimmy and Amelia visit often, every Wednesday for dinner and on Saturdays for lunch. I will start travelling to them once Grace is a bit older, I feel bad that they are taking all the time to see me. However, Claire loves her new cousin. Every time she visits, she wants to hold her. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to visit last week as both Claire and Amelia were sick. Once Grace has her vaccinations and they are all better, visits will be able to go on as normal.  _

_ Lucifer and my parents still won’t speak to me, unsurprisingly. Michael sent me a congratulatory card in the mail. A few of my cousins also called and stated their congratulations. One of my cousins, Anna, and her husband, Jeremiah, actually visited a few weeks ago. They are planning to start a family of their own.  _

_ I hope your family will meet her one day. You spoke highly of your brother and his wife, along with your aunt… Ellen? You mentioned them in passing and I know you love them very dearly. I am grateful for my family and that Grace will have so many people to look up to as she grows older, but my family isn’t her only family. She deserves to have all the family she can get.  _

_ You performed in Kansas City last night. I wanted so badly to go but I couldn’t. But it ached knowing you were so close by, that your daughter was so close to you but you couldn’t see her. But, you’ve moved on to someplace else, and that is okay. I just hope one day you know. With your second album coming out soon, however, I am looking forward to hearing your new music. I think I may buy the new album, so that Grace may know just a little piece of her other father.  _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

  
  


  
  


**Dean**

r u up?

**Sam**

Yeah

**Sam**

Associate now remember? Can’t need sleep.

**Dean**

dont be an ass

**Dean**

can I call u

**Dean**

urgent 

**_SAM is calling._ **

  
  
  


“Hey,” Dean greets as soon as he picks up the phone. 

_ “Hey! You wanted me to call? What’s up?” _ Sam replies. Dean hears some rustling in the background. 

“Are you free to talk? I know it’s late there,” he asks. While he may be an hour ahead in Denver, he’s wide awake. He worries about his brother, who has a job and a heavy workload and a lot of responsibilities that don’t include Dean. He feels that he doesn’t need the added stress of what Dean is about to tell him.

Garth remains in their little corner, still fast asleep, his duffle being used as a pillow. Dean’s a few feet away, sitting at the edge of the large window, watching as the planes stand still in the dead of night. 

_ “Yeah man, I tend to not sleep early now,” _ Sam says with a laugh.  _ “Plus, Fridays I don’t start until 11am, which is a bonus.”  _

“Yeah, you got lucky with that one.”

There is silence for a moment. The P.A. system of the airport begins to speak with details about a flight to New York. 

_ “... are you out?” _ Sam asks. 

“Yeah, I’m at the airport.” 

_ “The airport? Dude! Didn’t you just finish your tour last night? Which, I’m still sorry I wasn’t able to go to, by the way…” _

“Sam,” Dean sighs. “We’ve been over this, you toured with me the  _ entire  _ summer. I think it’s safe to say that you’ve seen enough of my performances.” 

Sam just huffs. “ _ Yeah, yeah, okay. But why are you at the airport? So late, as well?” _

“That’s what I actually wanted to call you about. I have… look, I have  _ huge  _ news okay? And you have to promise me you won’t freak out until I tell you everything.”

_ “... okay,”  _ Sam responds. Dean waits a few moments to make sure Sam is listening. 

“Okay, so um… you know how just after I moved to LA and finished the album, I took a break for a couple of weeks… went on a road trip and all of that?” 

_ “Yeah, it was just after New Year’s, right? When you were in Orlando for that welcome party?”  _

“Yeah… um, well, it was meant to be this big road trip across the country up until the 21st. But I ended up getting sidetracked.”

_ “What do you mean?” _

“Well, I mean that my car ran out of fuel about two days in, in a small town called Eudora in Kansas. And in my search for gas, I ended up… uh… meeting someone.” 

_ “Meeting someone?”  _

Dean gulps. “Uhm… a guy, Sam. I met a guy.”   
  


_ “You met a…  _ **_oh_ ** _.” _

Dean decides to keep talking before his brother can. “Yeah, his uh… his name is Cas and he was…  _ is…  _ amazing. I spent those two weeks hanging out with him, just as friends and… he was the only person outside this family that I confided in about… well…  _ you know _ . But… uh… it was obvious we both liked each other, and on the last night… we… uh…”

_ “Slept together?”  _

Dean sighs. “Yes.”

_ “Okay?” _

“No… uhm… not okay, Sam,” he says with a sigh. “He… uh… he has the gene.” 

A long pause. 

_ “Dean… is he… Cas… did you knock him up?” _

“Yes.”

Some rustling.

_ “Did you use protection?” _

“Yes, but obviously it wasn’t effective. It had been in my wallet for at least a couple of years, though, so I really shouldn’t be surprised.” 

_ “... Wouldn’t  _ **_he_ ** _ have condoms?” _

“He’s… I mean… he  _ was  _ a virgin.”

_ “Oh.” _

“Yep.”

_ “How long have you known?” _ Sam asks with a sigh.

“I only found out today,” Dean replies, leaning his head against the wall. “I didn’t exactly give him a contact number so he found me through the fan mail address.” 

_ “Are you saying you spent two weeks with this guy, slept with him, took his virginity and then didn’t even give him a way to contact you?!” _

“That’s what we agreed on, Sam!” Dean grits out. “I… I’m not just an asshole, okay? I told Cas I was leaving from day one, and… well, he knew my circumstances.”

Sam huffs.

_ “Well… how do you know he’s telling the truth? You know only like three thousand people have the gene, right? And if you compare that…”  _

“Against the hundreds of million who live here?” Dean cuts him off. “Yeah, I know. But look… I trust him okay? I know he’s telling the truth.” 

He wishes Cas would’ve told him about having the gene, but at the same time, he understands why he didn’t. While becoming more and more common in recent years, male pregnancy still tends to be frowned upon by the more conservative groups. Despite the fact that the first recorded case occurred all the way back in 1820.

He still remembers the story of Arthur Stokes, the first man to ever conceive a male pregnancy. Doctors had no idea how to explain it, and after some insistence, his baby was aborted within the first few weeks. For years, many thought it was some astonishing biological mutation, something that would never occur again. Until Henry Wade eight years later, in 1827. It was then that scientists decided to use Henry as a test-subject and discovered the difference in his DNA. 

Despite learning about it growing up, through subjects such as history and health, it still to this day is an anomoly. He still remembers the boys in class laughing as if it were the most hilarious thing in the world and certain teachers talking about it as if it were forbidden. He still remembers how scientists discovered that Henry and Arthur had ancestors from the same town, the now-uninhabited town of Sulfur, Idaho. However, despite that one link, there is still no explanation for its cause. Many hope that now with the stigmatisation decreasing and the technological advancements increasing, an answer will be provided in the next decade. For now, those who have the anatomy still stay quiet due to the lasting aftereffects of stigma and oppression. Dean knows that some men have kept it a secret their whole life as they were never in a situation where they needed to tell. While about three thousand men in the nation have the anatomy, only about a hundred pregnancies have ever been recorded.

Dean isn’t surprised, not everybody likes taking it up the ass. 

_ “So… he’s pregnant?” _ Sam asks, knocking Dean out of his reverie. 

“Was pregnant. I… we… our daughter is almost one.” 

_ “Daughter?”  _ Dean can hear a bit of light return to Sam’s voice.  _ “You have a little girl.” _

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I guess I do. Her name is Grace. Grace Mary.”

_ “Mary?” _

“Yeah, after Mom. I told him about her, but I never thought he’d remember.” 

_ “Huh.” _

“Yeah.”

_ “That was… really kind of him. I just… wow Dean, you’re a dad. An actual  _ **_dad._ ** _ ”  _

“Yeah… I’m still struggling to believe it myself.”

_ “I’m assuming you’re flying to see them now?” _

“Yeah.”

_ “Well, what are you going to do about it? Are you going to give up performing, or try and juggle both? Are you going to put everything into being a dad? How are you and Cas going to co-parent?” _

“I… I honestly have no idea, Sam.” 

He watches as a plane flies in, observes the way it emits a bright beam of light that slices through the darkness.

“I had a dream before. At first it was a memory, that time I performed at Madison Square Garden, when I was the opening act for Coldplay. It started out normal, then I saw him in the crowd with our kid, but I couldn’t see her, you know? And then he ran away, and I tried going after him, but my whole identity got blasted on the screen and I couldn’t find my way off the stage… It was a nightmare, Sam, and I just… I don’t know what I need to do.” 

He stays silent, hearing Sam’s harsh breaths and the small buzz of the unlively airport. Almost everyone around him is asleep, apart from a few who are either reading or typing away on their computers. Finally, Sam speaks up again.

_ “I think you and I both know that you ultimately have two choices… and I can’t make that choice for you.” _ __   
  


Dean sighs.

_ “But for what’s it worth, I think you’ll be an amazing dad. I mean, you pretty much took on that role when dad was sick, making sure I got to and from school okay, helping me with my homework, working to help pay the bills. I have no doubt you’ll be a great dad.”  _

Dean gulps. “Yeah… I hope so.”

_ “I know so, Dean. And also… thank you for telling me this, and… and I guess, coming out? I mean, I am a little surprised, considering the amount of playboys you stole when you were a teen...” _

“I’m bisexual dude, girls still do it for me. Just… guys do, too.”

_ “Hey, I don’t judge! Look just, thank you for telling me okay? I mean, I know you may have never told me if it weren’t for this situation, but… it’s still a big step, and I love you no matter what. And whatever decision you make, I’ll support you, okay?”  _

Dean chuckles weakly.

“Okay, bitch. No chick flick moments.” 

_ “This whole  _ **_phone call_ ** _ was a chick flick moment, you jerk.”  _

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look I’ll keep you updated. But go get some sleep. It’s late.”

_ “Yeah I will, work can wait until tomorrow. Night Dean.” _

“Night Sam, and… and thanks.”

_ “Anytime.” _

**_SAM_ **

**_Call has ended._ **


	8. Seven.

_December 25th, 2008_

_Dear Dean,_

_Merry Christmas._

_I hope you are spending it with family._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

  
  


_January 1st, 2009_

_Dear Dean,_

_ Happy New Year! It’s officially the new year here in Kansas. I figure you are currently somewhere in Los Angeles, so I am assuming that it’s not quite 2009 for you currently.  _

_ In two days it will be a year since you arrived here. I still remember that day, when you wandered into my bookshop. You looked so lost, yet determined. I can’t imagine what it was like for you having your car breakdown in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes, I happen to wonder what would've happened if you never walked into my store that day… what would change? Would we still have met? If we did, would the same events have occured? It’s hard to imagine.  _

_ Still, to this day, I am glad your car broke down in Eudora of all places. It’s crazy to think how different life would be if it hadn’t. It’s crazy to think the experiences we shared would never have happened, and our daughter would never have been born. Having spent these past few months with her, I can’t imagine life without Grace. I am sure, once you meet her, it will be the same for you.  _

_ I did a clean up of my study a few days ago, and I found a photo of us from the New Years barbeque. Do you remember that? It was a few days after you arrived and stumbled into my store, purely by coincidence. I still remember the book you bought from me:  _ _ Slaughterhouse Five _ _ by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. A classic. We talked and I invited you to the event, after you had told me that you were planning to stay for a little while. It was strange, attending that event with you. There were plenty of people there and you could have mingled, spoken to far more interesting people than myself. Yet you never left my side. Not once. Even when I had a particularly mundane conversation with Dr. Singer over stem cell research. And before we left, you summoned Miss Missouri to take a photo of the two of us. I don’t remember even printing it, but yet, here it is.  _

_ After the event, you came home with me. And we “hung out”, a term that you frequently used. It was weird, having a friend to talk to, to have someone in my company. The only friend I’ve really had was my twin, but I guess sharing a womb and face with someone technically forces you to be friends.  _

_ It was nice and I miss it. I miss having you as a friend. While we only knew each other for two weeks, I told you more personal things than I’ve ever told anyone else before. And I knew you were leaving, you told me from day one. I just never thought you’d leave without a goodbye. I suppose our last night was our goodbye though, wouldn’t you agree? _

_ Just in case you ever forget it,  _ _ that night _ _ the last night — meant everything to me, Dean. For more reasons than one. Thank you.  _

_ I have no idea where I was going with this. It’s late and I know that Grace will be awake soon. I feel I should stop before I continue rambling.  _

_ I hope 2009 is a good year for you. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

  
  


After saying goodbye to Garth (which included a very,  _ very _ long hug and Garth making sure they exchanged numbers), Dean hops on his flight to St. Louis at approximately quarter to six in the morning. He discovers that his window seat buddy has taken an earlier flight, meaning he gets the entire two seats to himself. By the time the plane is beginning to ascend, Dean is already asleep.

He arrives in St. Louis around 9am local time, feeling slightly more refreshed after his two hour nap. However,  _ god,  _ does he  _ stink.  _ He buys a body spray at one of the arrival stores and sneaks into a bathroom to spray himself. Nothing would be worse than rocking up to Eudora to see Cas, smelling like he's just drowned himself in B.O.

Once he exits the bathroom, he beelines to the rent-a-car service, hoping to rent a car to drive to Eudora. He makes his way towards the service, texting Pamela as he does to let her know that he’s arrived safely in St. Louis. He supposes that’s why he misses the other person stalking towards him, yelling loudly on her phone. 

He sees a flash of red and blue and suddenly another body crashes into him. He stumbles back from the impact, but manages to catch himself before he stumbles over. The other person on the other hand? Not so lucky. 

The red-haired girl falls to the ground with a thud, wide-eyed while her blue suitcase starts to roll away. Dean grabs it quickly and begins to pull it back to her. As he heads over, he hears her say into the phone:

“Sorry Gilda, I have to go. I’ll message you soon.” 

Dean reaches her as she pockets the phone. 

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Dean says, holding his hand out to her. The girl takes it and shakes her head as he helps her up.

“No, it was my fault too. I got a bit too heated, and wasn’t looking where I was going either.”

“Hope it wasn’t a flight delay? I just had to wait at Denver airport for about nine hours and I now know from first hand experience how much they suck.” 

She chuckles, “No, thank God. I just tried to rent a car, but apparently they were in high demand and there are no more cars to rent. All booked out. Can you believe that? No rental cars in a bloody  _ airport. _ ” 

Dean sighs and if at all possible, the girl’s eyes grow wider.

“Oh shit. Were you needing to hitch a ride as well?”

“Yep.” Dean mumbles. The girl looks at him sympathetically. 

“Not meaning to pry, but where are you heading?”

“Um… a small town in Kansas?” 

“Oh, I’m heading to Kansas too! Well, to Topeka. Where’s the town located?”

“About half an hour from Lawrence.” 

“You can just get the train then!” The girl exclaims very enthusiastically. “There’s a train leaving in about forty minutes for Kansas City. There, you can get a connecting one to Topeka, but I  _ did  _ read that it stops along the way at Lawrence. If we catch a cab to the station, we can probably make it to that train. That is… if you want to join me?” 

She raises her eyebrows at him and he can’t help but laugh.

“Sure. Why not? Don’t have a better option, do I?”

“No, you do not.”

The two of them jump into the nearest cab they can get and within twenty minutes, they arrive at the station. They buy their tickets quickly and make it onto the train with plenty of time to spare. They manage to grab a set of four chairs to themselves, with Charlie taking the backwards facing one because she apparently ‘has a stomach of steel’. 

As the train begins to move towards Kansas City, Dean begins laughing. 

“What’s so funny?” The girl asks, turning to look at him. 

“We just hopped on a train together and I never even got your name.” 

The girl flushes slightly, before letting out a small chuckle of her own as she sticks her hand out. 

“Charlie Bradbury, pleasure to be acquainted, good Sir.”

“Dean Winchester and the pleasure’s all mine, m’lady.” 

Charlie grins.

“Yeah… I think you and I are going to be  _ great _ friends.”

  
  


~~_January 17th, 2009_ ~~

~~_Dear Dean,_ ~~

~~_It’s been a year._ ~~

~~_I miss you Grace NEEDS you._ ~~

~~_Please cOme Home._ ~~

~~_Yours,_ ~~

~~_Cas_ ~~


	9. Eight.

_January 24th, 2009_

_Dear Dean,_

_ Happy birthday. The big 3-0.  _

_ I may have only been 30 for 4 months but so far, 30 has been a dream to me.  _

_ I heard on the radio yesterday that you are rumoured to have a big party in LA tonight. Apparently, “all the big music stars are invited”. Is it bad to say I doubt it? I know it has been over a year since we’ve seen each other, but I do feel like I know you to some degree. And from what you told me and confided in with me, I have a feeling you aren’t one looking to host big, extraordinary parties. But if it’s true, then I hope you have a fantastic party. Or whatever celebration you end up having. 30  _ _ is _ _ one to celebrate. _

_ Looking forward to the new album. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

  
  


_April 5th, 2009_

_Dear Dean,_

_ Grace crawled for the first time today! She only turned six months just two days ago and now? Crawling.  _

_ I know this may not seem like a milestone to you. I told Gabriel about it before on the phone and he called me crazy. Almost as crazy as when she smiled for the first time last month. I have no idea why I am so excited over this, I just blame my sleep deprived brain.  _

_ She’s getting so big, it’s hard to believe she used to be so tiny. She’s a bit of a chubby baby (adorably cute, but chubby). Her hair hasn’t grown much, just a small cluster on her head. I think I mentioned in a previous letter that she has dark hair, like mine. But I forgot to tell you, her eyes are green now! They’re beautiful, just like yours. There was a 50/50 chance that she’d end up with blue or green. I’m so glad she ended up with yours.  _

_ I baptised her last month as well, at a beautiful church in Lawrence called Corpus Christi. Jimmy, Amelia and Claire were there, obviously, considering Jimmy and Amelia are the godparents. Gabriel came as well with his new girlfriend Kali and she seems nice. We went out for lunch after and she was very good with Grace, which is all I can ask for in a partner for my brother, really. Unsurprisingly, neither my parents nor Lucifer attended, but I was shocked to see Michael accepted my invite. He came to lunch with us afterwards and we had a lovely catch up.  _

_ I suppose I never asked you about your religion, but I never took you for being particularly religious. I grew up Roman Catholic, attending religious schools my whole life. I am no longer particularly religious, I hardly attend church and I suppose my sexuality is not always accepted by fellow parishioners. However, being Catholic taught me some great values in life and unlike my parents, it never caused me to form prejudice. I hope to raise Grace Catholic, but obviously, leave her to decide her religion once she’s older. Unlike how my parents were with myself, I would like her to make her own informed choices in life.  _

_ I saw that you have begun your own headlining tour, how exciting! Unfortunately, I’ve found it hard to keep track of things lately so I am unsure where you are. Germany? Japan? Right here in the United States? Well, wherever you are — I hope you are enjoying it. I also hope you are sleeping well and eating right. When I first met you, I could see the exhaustion in your body. You were so tired and all you did was record an album months prior. You hadn’t even begun touring yet. You told me you needed a break and I’m so glad you spent it with me, but I couldn’t help but feel worried about you from the moment you left. So please, take care of yourself, will you? _

_ Your second album is amazing. I bought it on CD and vinyl from the local music shop. I had it pre-ordered for weeks, pretty much since you first announced it. I’ve been playing it around the house non stop, mostly through my record player. You loved that record player — in fact you told me I should get your album on vinyl. You promised me you’d deliver the vinyl of your first album one day, so for now, I will make do with the second.  _

_ No matter what happens, I know Grace is going to grow up and adore your music. For now, she just babbles whenever I play it. I am looking forward to the day she is able to sing along. I know it won’t be for a few years, but it’s something that makes me just want to melt, thinking about it.  _

_ I’m going to start Grace on solid foods soon, I am curious to see which baby food flavour she is going to love and which she will hate. She is also apparently going to begin teething soon, according to Sarah (Dr. Blake). I am not keen on beginning that experience with her.  _

_ I guess I will just have to keep you updated in the months to come.  _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

  
  


The first thirty minutes of the train ride goes smoothly, the both of them quiet as they settle into the long train ride. Charlie is busy texting on her phone (Dean guesses it’s the mysterious ‘Gilda’) while Dean watches as the small towns and cities passby the window. The green of the area is gorgeous, from the varying hills, to the vegetation that goes on for miles. It soothes Dean, but he isn’t surprised. For many summers during his childhood, his family would take road trips across the country. They’re his favourite memories of his childhood. He remembers the disappointment when they began to take them less frequently after his mom died, then stopped altogether when his dad got sick. He suspects that’s why he was pining for a road trip back in the Winter of ‘08… which was where he found Cas, instead. 

“So,” Dean says, causing Charlie to look up at him. “Why are you heading to Topeka?” 

He watches as Charlie averts her gaze back to her phone. 

“Just visiting a friend.” 

Dean starts to have a sneaking suspicion that it’s not just a friend and he voices as such. 

“Ooh, like, maybe a  _ girlfriend?”  _ he teases. Charlie looks up again, a flush in her cheeks. 

“... uhm… maybe? We… we haven’t really confirmed it all yet. It’s sort of new?” 

“Oh?”

“We met on World of Warcraft last year and we’ve been friends ever since. This is the first time we’re meeting in person. I mean we’ve instant messaged and Skyped but… I’ve never  _ met her-  _ met her, you know?” 

“And you like her and might want to be more than friends, but you aren’t sure if she swings that way?” 

Charlie shakes her head. “I mean… yes and no. I  _ do  _ want to be more than friends but I already know she swings this way. I’m just… I’m not sure she wants me like that.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

She glares at him. “Yes I’m  _ serious _ .” 

“Dude, look, you seem like a catch. And considering you said that she talks to you all the time, has Skyped with you, is welcoming you into her home. And also that she  _ swings your way,  _ gotta say man, seems like she’s interested too.” 

Charlie is quiet for a moment.

“You think?”

Dean grins. “Hell yeah.”

She huffs a small laugh and leans back into her chair. “Well, I’ll ask her out while I’m there then. You know… after a bit.” 

Dean gives a short nod. “You better.” 

Five minutes of silence pass by before Charlie speaks up again. 

“How’d you know?” she asks.

“Hm?” Dean murmurs, staring at a herd of cows on a paddock. 

“How did you know I batted for the other team?” 

Dean turns back to look at her.

“Ah, I don’t know. I just… knew? I mean… well…” 

Charlie looks at him curiously and in the spur of the moment, Dean decides to tell her. 

“I mean… I’m bisexual so I guess it’s sort of like a sixth sense?” 

“You mean your gaydar?” 

“My…  _ what?”  _

“Dude!” Charlie laughs, “have you lived under a rock? Your gaydar. Your radar for being able to detect the queer from the non-queer.” 

Dean snorts. “Okay, that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.” 

“So is having a gay sixth sense but you don’t hear me complaining.” 

Their laughter dies down and Charlie’s eyes grow soft. She stares at him.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t mean to pry but… are you closeted? You just seemed very…  _ hesitant _ to tell me.”

A small smile forms on Dean’s lips. “Yes and no. I… I’ve known I’m bi since… well… ever since I first heard of it about a decade or so ago. And I guess I never got around to really telling people because in a way… it embarrassed me. I felt  _ wrong?  _ And it took me a while to realise that it wasn’t wrong, it was just me. I’ve only told a few people. Three, to be exact. So I guess that makes you the fourth.” 

“Well, I’m honoured.” She says. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me, even though we’ve only known each other for an hour.” 

He does find it strange how much he trusts Charlie, so soon into their barely-formed friendship. He doesn’t know whether it was because of her friendly nature or her charismatic spark, or the fact that she was wearing a Princess Leia shirt, but overall, it makes her seem trustworthy to him. 

“Yeah well, we’re spending the next seven hours together. We’re either going to walk out friends or enemies.”

Charlie grins. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

* * *

  
  


By the time the next two hours have passed, their conversations have ranged from the area of Star Wars to Charlie’s job as an IT consultant. Charlie assures him it’s fun, but the amount of technological jargon she spouts at him suggests otherwise. Dean has no idea where they are, but he knows they aren’t even halfway into their current train ride. He’s thankful that he has Charlie on this trip because he feels he would’ve lost his mind by now without her. 

“So, now that we need a new topic…” Charlie says leaning back in her chair, bringing one of her knees up to her chest. “Coming out stories?” 

Dean just looks at her and she shrugs. 

“Entertain me.” 

Dean debates not telling the story for a solid few seconds, until he catches a glimpse of Charlie’s pleading eyes and in the end, gives in.

“So I never told a single soul I was bi until the start of last year,” he explains, leaning forward slightly. “I was going on a road trip and ended up stopping in this small town where I met this guy… Cas.”

“Cas?” Charlie scrunches her nose. “That’s a weird name.”

“It’s a nickname for an even  _ weirder  _ name. Plus he’s a weird dude so it fits.”

Charlie motions for him to continue.

“Well, I ended up becoming good friends with him and I decided to stay there for a couple of weeks. He owned his little bookshop in the heart of the town and I spent almost everyday there with him. He let me just hang around, leaning on his counters or bugging him in the back office. He seemed to enjoy my company and I enjoyed his too, he was basically one of the only friends I have ever had.” 

Charlie makes a cooing sound and Dean shushes her. 

“One day, I was hanging out in there and Cas was talking to Chuck, one of his employees, and they were talking about dates for whatever reason. I wasn’t paying attention, and Cas said and I quote, ‘well considering there is only one other gay man in the area, who is sixty-four, I think my chances of getting a date anytime too are incredibly slim.’

“When he closed shop that day, we headed back to his for dinner. We were sitting on the floor eating ramen noodles and I asked him about being gay… well, I asked him why he was so open. He said he had to hide it from his religious, conservative family for long enough, and he didn’t care anymore. And surprisingly, the town he lives in is super supportive, and everyone just…  _ knew. _ ” 

Charlie doesn’t say anything, so Dean continues.

“So… after he said all of that, I just felt the urge rise up and before I could stop it, I blurted it out. I regretted it straight after and almost got the fuck out of there, but Cas… he crawled over and gave me a hug. And he said those words you just said before, ‘thank you for trusting me.’ And after that, I guess I didn’t feel as scared anymore.” 

Charlie lets out a little squeal and Dean is grateful that there is no one in close proximity to them. 

“Cas sounds so nice! And he must be special if he was the first person you told.” 

Dean almost goes to change the subject, to get Charlie to tell her own story. However, as Charlie’s words sink in, he stops. Because she is right, Cas  _ is  _ special, special enough that Dean trusted him with his two deepest secrets. The only man Dean ever slept with. The conflicted feelings he’s been facing begin to bubble to the surface again, putting pressure in his chest that just won’t go away. 

Charlie seems to notice and frowns.

“Hey… are you okay?” 

Dean takes a breath before sighing. He takes a quick look around their particular carriage, noticing the next living person is about a few feet away, not in earshot. He turns back to Charlie who is looking at him expectantly.

“Can you keep a secret?”


	10. Nine.

_July 4th, 2009_

_Dear Dean,_

_Happy Fourth of July!_

_In all honesty, I’ve never really celebrated this holiday, but Jimmy requested that we do something for Grace. Per his insistence, Grace and I are going to travel tonight to Jimmy and Amelia’s for a family barbeque. Gabriel and Kali are coming as well, along with some family of Amelia’s, and some friends and neighbours of theirs. While I am not overly keen, Jimmy and Gabriel like to remind me that it will be Grace’s first fourth of July. Even though I highly doubt our daughter will remember it._

_Yesterday was her nine month mark, but I’m hardly keeping track. She’s growing like a weed, I swear before I know it, she’ll be off to college. She babbles all the time now and is nearly walking. She can stand by herself, it’s just those few steps she needs to take. She’s so close! Yet, I feel she is mocking me, in a way. I worry that the first time she walks will be while I’m working. She is quite cunning for an infant. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got that from you. You charmed everyone you met. Even me._

_I had a dream about you last night. I guess that is why I felt compelled to write to you again. I keep telling myself I won’t write to you anymore because what’s the point? It’s not like you will ever receive these. But, I can’t help it. You’re in my thoughts every day, Dean. I see you in her every time those eyes stare at me. I get sad thinking that you don’t know her, that you haven’t had this time to spend with her. It sucks._

_My dream was of our last night together. That whole time, I had been attempting to ignore whatever was building between us. I could feel it, every time I looked at you… every time I was around you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were beautiful and I knew that I wanted you. Yet, I had never been intimate with a man. I don’t know whether that was my introverted nature, or the fact that I count myself as a hopeless romantic. Maybe I wanted you to woo me, in a way. And by God, you did. You gave me comfort that I hadn’t experienced in such a while. A joy. You made me feel special — and being an identical twin living in a highly religious household, I rarely experience the feeling of being special._

_And you trusted me. You told me a secret, something personal and big. It was a big secret Dean. I promise, I haven’t told it to another soul. I would never. Your secret is safe with me. And I am still honoured you trusted me with it._

_I told myself I wouldn’t give myself to you. You made it abundantly clear from day one that you were not staying. I knew it and I knew you were going to leave. And I knew that if I were that intimate with you, that in the end it would break me. I knew._

~~_I knew you felt it too._ ~~

_I dreamt of that night again and it has made today just a little bit harder. I tried to not let it break me, especially when I woke up to see you had gone. But, I am unfortunately not that resilient. I don’t know how you felt, whether you thought our time together was nothing more than a mere fling. I hope not, because I definitely felt it was much more than that. But I suppose I can’t blame you if you didn’t react the same way in the end. You had a tour to begin, and I guess performing around the world is enough to make you forget about me. I am sure you’ve forgotten about me, because if you hadn’t, wouldn’t you already be here?_

_I don’t mean to place all this guilt on you._ ~~_Well, it’s not like you will ever read these._ ~~ _I hope you know that no matter what happens, I won’t blame you. Grace will know you are her father whether you’re in the picture or not. I just hope that someday, somehow, you will come home to us._

_I will try not to write to you anymore. Not for your sake, but definitely for my own. Sometimes I feel like I am talking to a figment. Something that isn’t real. Just a memory._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

_P.S. I realised that you have just travelled back to the United States for your last series of concerts for the tour. I hope you enjoyed your travels abroad._

By the time they reach Kansas City, Dean has somehow managed to spill most of his life's story to Charlie. He made no mention of his secret rockstar life, knowing that Pamela would literally have his head on a plate if he were to mention it again without an NDA. However, he still tells Charlie the rest, careful not to mention the details that would expose him. He mentions Cas contacting him through letters, recently discovering that he has a daughter, and his current journey to go and find him. He talks about the weeks he spent with Cas, and vaguely talks about his career in ‘the music industry.’ He talks about his life back home, his parents’ deaths, and how his current career has helped him actually have a financially stable life. How working in music had been his dream since he was a kid. 

As they’re walking towards the next train, Charlie turns to him.

“Can I just clarify something?” she asks, as if she hasn’t just bombarded him with 30 minutes worth of follow up questions.

“Sure,” Dean answers with a shrug.

“So, your current dilemma… what you’re saying is that you aren’t happy with working in the music industry, that you’re only staying because of the pressure from your child-self. You regret leaving Cas, even if you only knew him for a few weeks, and you have this… what did you call it? Oh yeah, _longing_ to be a father. But yet, you have no idea what you’re going to do?”

They stop at their designated platform and Dean sees that the train is arriving in seven minutes. He turns to glare at Charlie. 

“It’s not that simple! I just… look, I like Cas. And he’s the only good friend I’ve had, even after just two weeks together. I trusted him, because… he saw this side of me that I’ve never really shown anyone before. He… got me. You know? We just clicked. And that scared me, so I spent two weeks pretending I didn’t think he was hot, or that I had this attraction to him… all up until that last night. And then when I left him, even though we both knew I had to leave for work, I _—_ ”

“You felt bad, like something was telling you to not go,” Charlie interrupts him. “You realised that you cared for him and that those two weeks actually _meant_ something to you, but you had this obligation, this duty to go and do the job you’d always wanted. But part of you didn’t want to. Part of you wanted to stay.”

Dean nods and they’re both silent for a moment. 

“What am I meant to do? Give up my financially stable career, my dream? I’ve only known Cas for two weeks, and I haven’t seen him in nearly _two years._ And I’m meant to just move in, play happy family? I mean… I _do_ want to be there. For him, for Grace, but… it also seems all too soon. I don’t feel prepared.”

Charlie sighs, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I know, Dean, this doesn’t sound like a fun situation you’ve found yourself in. But think about it, you’ve just told me you want to be there for them, for Cas and your daughter. And that doesn’t mean you have to marry the guy, it means co-parenting, both of you being the parents that your child deserves. And as for your career? I’m sure you’ll be able to find a similar job, even in a small Kansas town. I don’t think that’s the issue. The issue is that obligation, what we talked about earlier. You feel pressure to keep living that childhood dream. I hate to break it to you Dean, but it doesn’t exactly sound like it’s a dream anymore.”

As the train pulls up, Charlie drops her hand from Dean’s shoulder and sends him a small smile.

“I think you know what you have to do.”

They quietly board the train together, Dean helping Charlie with her suitcase. The train to Kansas is packed, unlike the last one, so the two of them are only just able to grab two seats next to each other. Charlie sits on the aisle, pulling out a Harry Potter book and beginning to read while simultaneously texting Gilda (Dean assumes). Dean on the other hand, looks out the window at the late afternoon sky, and finds himself beginning to day dream. He thinks about Ellen and Jo, the both of them back home in Sioux Falls, and how badly he wants to visit them. Or about Sam, now miles and miles away back in California, probably still working hard on his Friday afternoon. He hasn’t seen Sam for two months and he misses him, despite their very recent conversation. Through all that, he finds his mind drawn back to Cas, memories of those two weeks they spent together. From Dean introducing Cas to the wonders of daytime television, or the day that he and Cas attended the Eudora New Year event and Dean felt drawn to Cas’ side the entire evening, never wanting to leave it. 

He thinks about their final night together, the memory popping into his head faster than he can stop it. 

* * *

_“I have made a decision on our plans tonight.” Cas said in lieu of a greeting. With it being Dean’s last night in Eudora, Cas had told him that he wanted to plan something special, and to come over to his at exactly 7pm. So there Dean was, on his doorstep with a pack of beers in hand, ready to see whatever Cas had planned for the night._

_“You better have, seeing as I’m already here,” Dean quipped, stepping past Cas into the house. His friend shut the door behind him and led him into the kitchen, where an assortment of food was already waiting on the table. Burgers, chips, a couple of pizzas. Dean knew that Cas had gotten it from the diner in town called Benny’s, one that Dean had frequented often. He looked over at Cas._

_“Is it too early to say that I love you?” he asked. Cas rolled his eyes._

_“Yes.”_

_They sat down at the table and began to talk about their days. Information was minimal from Dean’s side, considering he’d spent most of the day lounging around in the B &B waiting for his hang-out with Cas that night. His friend, on the other hand, talked about the bookstore, about the delivery person who he _ swears _is out to get him. He also talks about his co-workers Chuck and Hannah, and how much the two of them disagree, despite having similar mannerisms. Dean enjoyed the discussion, especially since he didn’t have to talk, or reply through a mouthful of cheeseburger. Plus, Cas had listened to him on countless occasions. It was nice to be able to be the listener for once._

_After dinner, both Dean and Cas headed into the living room to watch a movie. Dean had been content, knowing that a night in with Cas was definitely how he wanted to spend his last night in the small town. However, as it turned out, that’s not all Cas had planned._

_“I want you to fuck me,” Cas said around the mid-way point of the movie._

_It was unfortunate timing, considering Dean was in the middle of taking a sip from his beer. Splashes of liquid flew out of Dean’s mouth and onto his pants and the floor below. Cas watched him from the other sofa, bemused._

_“What the fuck, Cas?” he choked out. His throat stung and he tried to clear it, feeling the remnants of his barely-swallowed beer struggle to make their way down._

_“You heard me.” Cas replied casually and Dean glared at him._

_“Cas… you can’t just—” He stopped and sighed, trying again. “What brought this on?”_

_He watched as Cas pursed his lips, the fine lines around his mouth becoming more prominent. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up the remote, pausing the movie._

_“I’m not usually this forward… in fact I have never propositioned someone like this.” Cas admitted. Dean could tell he was uncomfortable, so he stayed silent and just let Cas speak. “I… I have never found the right person I’ve wanted to be with and be intimate with. I’ve always wanted it to be with someone I trusted, and who I felt safe with. And I’ve never met anyone like that… not until the day we met.”_

_“Cas…” Dean whispered, but the man across from him just shook his head._

_“Look… neither of us can sit here and deny it. I’m attracted to you, and you are to me. We have a… um… a chemistry. We get along well, and these past few weeks have been some of the best I’ve had. I knew that if I didn’t ask… I would regret it.”_

_Dean forced himself to reply, the back of his throat feeling both dry and raw. “I… I do want to, believe me, but tomorrow I’m—”_

_“Leaving, I know,” Cas said. “And I understand that. Dean, I’ve known since day one that you’re not going to stay. I’ve accepted it. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have even proposed this.”_

_Dean shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling the weight of Cas’ heavy gaze._

_“It’s our last night together,” Dean spoke softly. “I just don’t want it to be a night you… or a night_ either _of us regret. I don’t want you to hate me after, because these two weeks have been amazing. They’ve meant everything to me.”_

_He watched as Cas got up from the couch and made his way over, sitting beside Dean so that their thighs were touching. He leant over and grabbed Dean’s hands in his whilst maintaining eye contact. His eyes were soft and gentle, almost as if he were pleading._

_“No matter what happens tonight,” Cas murmured, “I promise you, I won’t regret a thing.”_

_Dean took a moment to take in Cas’ expression, to make sure that he was all in… that he actually wanted this. When he left, he didn’t want Cas to resent him. To have any kind of bitterness towards him over the fact that nothing more would happen. He was worried that they wouldn’t be able to seperate the feelings between them from this moment, and that it would only cause heartbreak for the both of them._

_He had a lot of worries._

_But the moment he looked at Cas’ face, and the way his eyes seemed to resemble those of a kicked puppy dog gearing up for rejection, he knew there was no turning back._

**_Fuck it._ ** _He thought to himself._

_He didn’t need to be told twice._

* * *

As the train begins to depart, Dean realises that Charlie is right.

He knows what he has to do. 


	11. Ten.

_September 1st, 2009_

_Dear Dean,_

_I vaguely remember in my last letter to you that I said I was no longer going to write to you. However, I can assure you, this is the last one._

_Recently I discovered from a customer that you set up an automatic emailing system. And I, being quite inept with technology, had no idea. So I decided to sign up. Please don’t think I am stalking you, I rather just let the curiosity get to me. Maybe this whole “baby brain” thing that I’ve had for the past eleven months has made me a little delusional. I guess a lack of sleep and postpartum hormones will do that to you._

_Today I received an email, informing me that your team had recently set up a P.O. box — a place for your fans to send mail to you such as gifts and letters. While it may be a long shot, this is the only address I have been able to find of yours. I know it technically won’t be yours and that you will have people checking this. Hence, the “long shot”. If someone happens to read this that is not Dean_ ~~_Win_~~ _Smith, I am sorry for the absurdness of this story. However, I can promise it’s the truth. Do with that as you will._

_If it is Dean reading this, then I am glad this was finally able to reach you. I hope these letters have been informative about Grace and help you make a decision about your role in her life. Despite what I may have said, I want you to know that it is up to you. If you do not want to be in her life, I will understand and not hold you accountable. You never asked for this and I will never force you to be involved. Grace and I will be just fine, just the two of us._

_However, if you do want to be a part of Grace’s life — please note that you are more than welcome. As you have seen from these letters, I do hope you will be. And Grace would love to meet her father, even if she may not understand who you are yet. She will, if that is what you want._

_Since this is the last letter I’m writing, I just want to let you know about Grace’s 1st birthday. Again, purely at my brother’s insistence, I am holding a small party here. Only close friends and family are coming and it won’t be anything fancy (she is one, there is really no need for a party that she won’t remember). If these letters happen to reach you before then and you feel you want to be involved, please know that you are invited and welcome to attend. Grace and I will be here, waiting if you do._

_But, if this is the last time I ever speak to you, please know, Dean, that I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t purposefully “knock myself up”, if you ever happen to think that. No one knows that you, in particular, are the father. It is up to you whether this is something we tell people or not. If it’s a no, I want to thank you for everything. The two weeks we shared together are fond memories and they gave me the greatest gift of all. I know every parent says this but Grace… Grace is_ _perfect. _ _I can’t imagine my life without her and I can't wait to see what she’ll become. I also can’t wait to see what happens in your future, even if Grace and I are not a part of it._

_I suppose I should stop writing as I am getting far too emotional to continue. I hope to see you at Grace’s birthday (Saturday October 3rd, 10:30am). If not, I guess this is goodbye and to quote the words of one Kurt Vonnegut; “And so it goes.”_

_Thank you again Dean, for everything._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Cas_

The sun is only just beginning to set when the train slowly pulls to a halt at Lawrence Station. 

“I guess this is my stop,” Dean says, hiking his bag onto his shoulder. He’s preparing to say his goodbyes to Charlie, promising to call and text now that they’ve exchanged phone numbers. He, however, is surprised when Charlie stands as well, lifting the handle of her suitcase. 

“Uh… you know that Topeka is another forty minutes from here, right?” Dean asks, steadying himself on the wall as the train comes to a complete stop. 

“I know,” Charlie replies with a grin. “But I was keeping Gilda updated on our conversation, and she told me that if I didn’t stay to find out what happens, that she’d never play World of Warcraft with me again.” 

Dean looks at her bemused and she shrugs. 

“You spent the last almost-eight hours telling me your life story. Can’t blame a girl for being curious about the aftermath.” 

When the doors open, the two of them head out together towards the cab station. He convinces Charlie to stay somewhere in Lawrence for the time being and that he would update her as soon as possible on the evening’s events. As he watches her cab drive away, a small part of him wishes he could bring her to diffuse the tension. But he knows that Cas would not appreciate Dean bringing a stranger into such an intimate part of their lives. 

He gets into his own cab, giving them Cas’ address, which he somehow still remembers. The car ride is silent, Dean too wrapped up in his thoughts to even try and keep up a conversation. He spends the drive watching as the buildings and streets of central Lawrence disappear to the fields on the outskirts, before altogether transforming to the quaint little town of Eudora. 

Seeing it again causes a flood of memories to enter Dean’s mind. He sees the ice cream parlor on the corner, where he and Cas once shared a banana split (neither of them had tried one and figured, why not?). And Benny’s diner, which still has the best bacon cheeseburgers Dean’s ever had. He sees Cas’ bookstore, still standing in all its glory. It’s exactly like he remembers it, the beautiful cursive sign with a painted feather stemming from the final ‘s’. He wonders how Chuck and Hannah are doing. He wonders how they are with Grace, considering neither of them seemed to be the type of people who’d interact well with a small child. The thought brings a small smile to his face. 

The cab pulls into Cas’ driveway just after seven, the sky a mixture of purple and blue. He pays his fare and waits until the cab is down the road before he even takes a look at the house. His heart is beginning to speed up in his chest as he takes in the sight of the building before him, the house a reminder that everything right now is actually happening. All of this is _real._

Any second now, he will be seeing Cas again. And any moment now, he will be meeting their daughter. 

He couldn’t describe the thoughts and feelings running through his mind. If he tried, he knows they would just end up as an indecipherable babble. He’s nervous, but excited. Hesitant, but impatient. Part of him wants to march up to the front door right that second, the other wonders if it’s too late to turn back around. 

But out of everything he feels, that feeling of longing is the strongest of them all. And it is that feeling that pulls him down the driveway and straight to the front door. 

It takes him three deep breaths to steady himself, before he shakily knocks on the door. He hears a clatter inside and a deep voice calling out, _“just a minute!”._ Dean instantly knows that it’s Cas, and he feels his breath hitch. He listens to the sound of rustling, more clattering, and the soft, padding sound of footsteps on the wood. Then, suddenly-and-not-suddenly, the door opens.

_Everything._ Dean thinks. _Everything has led to this._

Cas stands before him, his blue eyes wide as he realises who is on his front door step. He looks the same as Dean remembers him, with the exception of the added scruff on his jaw, and the fact that he looks _much_ tireder. He’s dressed casually in a black shirt and jeans, barefoot with a dishrag swung over his left shoulder. However, Dean only looks at Cas for a moment, before his eyes are drawn to the child bundled in Cas’ arms. 

The first thing Dean notices is her eyes. They’re big, green and almost too big for her small face. They are staring right at him, almost as if she is assessing him, seeing whether she trusts him or not. It’s a strange look to see on a baby, let alone one that isn’t even a year old. He tries to take note of all her features, burning whatever image he can of his daughter in his mind. He has no idea what is going to happen but he doesn’t want to ever forget her. He doesn’t want to forget her brown curls, or her button nose. It’s that moment when he realises just how much he loves her, despite only just meeting her. He realises it’s almost as if he’s meeting a stranger that he already knows, this deep love and connection for his own child causing a sense of familiarity. 

He forces himself to turn his attention back to Cas, who is still standing there dumbfounded. Dean feels a shaky smile form on his face, his lips wobbling as all the emotions he’s feeling suddenly bubble to the surface. 

“Hey Cas,” he murmurs. 

Cas responds with a smile of this own.

“Hello Dean.” 

  
  



	12. Epilogue

Before Dean can even blink, he is pulled into a half embrace by Cas. With Grace in his other arm, it’s a little awkward and Dean tries his best to manoeuvre around it. He rests his head on Cas’ shoulder, breathing in the scent of apple shampoo and aftershave that’s still present after all these months. Relief floods through him at the fact that he has finally made it. He is here; with his daughter and her father. 

He’s home. 

Cas breaks the hug almost as quickly as he initiated it. He flashes Dean another small smile and moves off to the side. 

“Come in?” 

Dean nods immediately, securing the duffle on his shoulder before stepping over the threshold. The house is mostly the same as the last time he saw it, the same walls and floors and furniture. Yet it’s also profoundly different, Grace’s presence now shown in every little aspect of the rooms. From the high chair in the kitchen, to the toys in the living room. Even the pictures of her on the foyer wall. A small smile creeps onto his face as he sees a young picture of her, possibly from a couple of months ago. She’s looking at the camera, a large gummy smile on her face. 

“Uh, sorry, I was actually in the middle of feeding Grace,” Cas says, heading back into the kitchen. Dean follows.

“I hope you don’t mind. She can be a particularly fussy eater. However, tonight she seems to be enjoying the pumpkin.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Dean replies.

He watches as Cas places the infant back into the high chair. Grace’s eyes glitter when Cas picks up the jar and spoon again, scooping up a small serving of the pumpkin puree. He starts bringing it towards her, blowing a raspberry with his tongue as he does so. Their daughter giggles, and Dean thinks he’s never heard a better sound. 

Grace eats the scoop with no hassle, happily munching on it. As Cas goes to get another spoonful, Dean clears his throat. 

“I… I know I’ve just gotten here but… would it be okay if I tried… um, feeding her?” 

Cas looks over at him in surprise, his eyebrows slightly raised. However, the look is only there for a moment before it’s replaced by a smile and a nod. 

“Of course. However, Grace is sometimes wary around strangers. But definitely give it a try, I think with me in the room, you shouldn’t have a problem.”

Dean places his duffle bag down and slowly crosses the room to replace Cas in the chair. Grace seems unfazed, still finishing the remnants of the pumpkin puree in her mouth. Dean scoops up some of it, feeling the weight of Cas’ gaze as he stands behind him. Dean realises that he’s nervous, feeling as if he’s going to fail as a father if he can’t feed his daughter right. However, he begins to do exactly what Cas just showed him. Once Grace has her attention on him, he blows a raspberry that produces another giggle from his daughter. Dean feels himself grin, especially when he hears Cas chuckle from next to him. He then brings the spoon to her and watches as she eats it up without a fuss. 

“Looks like you’ve got it handled,” Cas states. “Do you mind if I quickly do these couple of dishes while she finishes eating?” 

“Go ahead,” Dean replies, as he scoops up another serving. 

Two minutes pass before either of them say anything further. All they can hear is the soft babbling of Grace, and the sound of sloshing water from the sink. In the end, it’s Dean who speaks first. 

“So… you’re having a party tomorrow?” 

Cas hums. 

“Yes, just a small gathering here. Nothing too fancy, considering she’s not going to remember it. Jimmy insisted upon it, he’s always been one for celebrations. It’s only going to be his family, our older brother Gabriel, and Hannah and Chuck. Pretty much a simple lunch with a birthday cake and presents.”

“That sounds nice.” 

“Yes. I think it will be.” 

They grow silent again, with Grace finishing her dinner and Cas finishing the dishes. Once they’re both done, Cas comes over and scoops her up out of the high chair. Dean follows, watching as Cas gives her a quick bath to clean up the remaining stain of pumpkin on her hands and face. It’s strange for Dean to watch this man he once knew as just a regular man in his late twenties, with his sleeves rolled up as he babbles and makes faces at his daughter. It’s endearing, and one of the nicest things Dean has had the pleasure to witness. But yet, it’s still strange.

After Grace is clean and dry, Cas eventually places her into her crib after reading her a book and singing her song. Dean has no idea why Cas chose to sing the theme song from _The Greatest American Hero_ as his choice lullaby, but he’s not one to judge. He watches from the doorway as Cas tucks Grace in before quietly leaving the room as the baby sleeps soundly. 

He grabs one of the baby monitors from the dresser on his way out, before indicating his head down the hall. Dean realises he is gesturing for him to follow. 

Cas leads him into the living room, where he places the monitor in front of him on the coffee table. They look at each other for a moment.

“I’m… I’m glad you came, Dean,” Cas states. “I was worried that you were not going to.” 

Dean shakes his head. “There is no way in hell I wasn’t going to be here. I only received your letters yesterday, and I booked it to get here. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” 

“Don’t apologise, I meant what I said in my letters. I don’t blame you for how events have unfolded. We had an agreement, and I know that things would have turned out differently if you knew beforehand. I don’t have any ill feelings towards you because you haven’t been here.” 

“That… I’m really happy to hear that,” Dean murmurs. “And I just want you to know that from here on out, I’m gonna be here. I’m going to be here for both you and Grace.” 

Instead of seeing the pleasant reaction he expects, Dean watches as Cas tenses up, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Dean… I appreciate the sentiment, but what about your job? Travelling all the time? I am well aware of your past year and a half of performances, I don’t think I ever saw you slow down. I want you to be in Grace’s life and be a father, but only if you are all in.”

Dean blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m not saying you have to live here with us, or even in Eudora for that matter. But… I don’t know how I can make this work if you are constantly travelling across the country, or even internationally. Or if you’re living in Los Angeles full time. I hope you don’t think that I’m being unreasonable, it’s just, I don’t want Grace growing up wondering about where her dad is all the time, wondering when she will see him next. I don’t want her growing up having to lie about her father and his job. I also don’t want it to conflict with our privacy in any way. There are all these factors that would disrupt our lives completely, which is why I ask to be allowed to give this simple ultimatum. That you are all in, for every step of the way.” 

Dean’s mind is all muddled and he doesn’t know what to think. While he understands Cas’ words and knows exactly where he is coming from, it’s almost as if he suddenly feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wants to be there for Cas and Grace, and he knows that Cas’ demands are reasonable, but the ultimatum has been dropped on him far too unexpectedly for him to process. 

Cas then stands, sending Dean a forced smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep out here tonight as my guest room is now Grace’s room. I’ll go grab some sheets. I apologise for the early night, I’m usually in bed by nine as Grace is an early riser.” 

He begins to exit the room, before stopping. “You don’t have to make a decision tonight Dean, it can wait a few days. And you are still welcome to come celebrate with us tomorrow. I just want you to know where I stand.”

“I understand, Cas,” Dean responds. 

Cas leaves to go get the sheets, and quietly, the two of them construct a makeshift bed for Dean on the sofa. 

“I also realised something,” Dean states. “I forgot to get a present for Grace.” 

Cas laughs. “I’m sure she won’t mind.” 

“Yeah, but I feel bad. Shouldn’t a father be bringing his daughter a present?” 

Cas rolls his eyes, the gesture warm and familiar to Dean. “Grace is turning one tomorrow, she won’t remember what presents she’ll get, nor will she care about them in a year’s time. Also, considering you only found out about the event yesterday, I think the late notice is a sufficient excuse to have forgotten a gift.” 

Once they finish the bed, Dean glances a look over at the clock to see that it’s half past eight. Yet with how much he has travelled in the past few months, it could be 1am and he’d feel the exact same. He’s exhausted. 

“Would you like a shower? Or the remote, so you can watch some television?” Cas asks. 

“I’m good, Cas. Am I okay to have a shower in the morning? I’m beat, and just ready to pass out. I think I could use an early night as well.” Dean chuckles. 

Cas smiles and nods. “I’ll just be down the hall, I’m sure you remember where my bedroom is. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come and talk to me.”

“I’ll be fine Cas, but thank you.” 

He watches as Cas heads through to his bedroom, pausing for a moment when he gets to the hall. He turns to look at Dean.

“For what it’s worth, about what you said earlier,” Cas says from the doorway. “I think you being here is the best present either of us could ask for.” 

* * *

Despite his exhaustion, Dean ends up tossing and turning all night. The weight of everything suffocates him, from his past decisions, to the current choices he has to make. He knows what he wants to do, but doesn't know how to do it. He’s worried that he’ll mess it all up, _everything_ , and his life will become what it once was. A life where he was alone and burdened, with no future in sight. 

He ends up already being awake when he hears the sound of soft whimpers from the next room. Grace’s room is only across the hall from the living area, and with the house being completely silent, he can hear almost everything. From the sound of the tree branch scraping against the kitchen window, to the ticking of the analogue clock across the room. He assumes Cas is still sleeping and won’t wake up until Grace’s soft cries turn to wails. Dean figures that since he’s up, he should let Cas sleep a little longer. 

He creeps along to Grace’s room and peeks in to see her standing in her crib, sniffling slightly. When she sees him, her sniffles turn to whines as she holds an arm out and makes grabby motions. Dean immediately goes straight to her. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I got you.” He whispers, picking her up and holding her on his hip. She almost instantly calms down and Dean feels a flood of relief. It takes him a moment to realise that this is the first time he’s holding his daughter in his arms, and it brings a warm feeling to his chest. 

“I’m guessing you must be hungry, but I have no idea what you eat for breakfast,” Dean tells her. “I’m hoping you won’t be too upset if we just stay here for a moment, give your dad some time to rest.” 

Grace doesn’t seem to be in disagreement, so Dean maneuvers her so that both of them can sit on the rocking chair in the room _—_ the same one Cas sat on when he read to her last night. 

“I know you don’t know me very well, but I’m your dad… well, your other dad,” he says, looking down at her as she looks around the room. “I know you haven’t seen much of me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I know you may not realise it, but I really should’ve been here to help your dad, to be here for both you and him.” 

He watches as she turns her attention to him, her big eyes staring right at him.

“No matter what happens, I want you to know that I love you,” Dean whispers. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt love like this, which is what makes it so special. Your dad was right, you know? You’re beautiful, and I don’t think I understood what he meant until I saw you. I never thought I’d be someone’s dad. When I was a kid, I lost my mom and… I sort of lost my father as well. He.. well… we like to say he got sick. Which means he made some bad choices that made him not the best dad. He forgot about us, and he made me feel unwanted… unloved. I didn’t want to be a dad who forgot about his child or did anything to make them feel unloved. So I never thought I’d be a father in the way that I am to you.”

He sighs, soft tears pricking behind his eyes. Grace watches his every move.

“But I’m super lucky to be your dad. I think I’m the luckiest guy in the entire world. I hope you know that I will always love you, and I’m honoured that I’m your father.” The words continue to spill out, Dean can’t seem to stop them. “I know you will never be unloved, even if I’m not around. You are also so lucky, because you already have the best dad in the world. And I’m not talking about me. Your other dad… he’s amazing, and he’s given you everything. You are his entire life, and he would do anything for you. My own dad was nothing like him, and I think my life would be a lot different if he had been. I’m not worried about who you’ll become. I mean, you’re pretty amazing now, but I know you’re going to grow up to be extraordinary. Because I’m hoping you’ll be just like your father.” 

Grace finally turns her attention away from him, giving Dean a minute to compose himself. He takes a deep breath and shuffles Grace from his lap into his arms. 

“How about we go find your dad and get you some breakfast, huh kiddo?”

“I’m right here, Dean,” a voice says, startling him. He stands up quickly, looking over at Cas who is leaning against the doorway. He’s wearing a simple grey shirt and sweatpants, and his hair is in a disarray, tufts of hair spiking up all over the place. However, what Dean notices most is the look on Cas’ face. His eyes are soft, and there’s a warm smile spreading over his lips. Dean realises he must’ve heard the conversation, and immediately he feels his cheeks flush a bright red. 

“Um… I was hoping to let you sleep a little more, but I have no idea what to give her for breakfast.” He says. Cas holds his arms out and Dean reluctantly places Grace into them. 

“I’ll show you how to get her breakfast prepared, and then I figured you could feed her while I prepare us something to eat, too. How does scrambled eggs and toast sound?” Cas inquires. 

Dean feels the grin spread wide on his face.

“Sounds perfect.”

* * *

The rest of the morning goes smoothly, and for a small period of time, it makes Dean feel as if they’re almost a family. Such as when he’s feeding Grace while having breakfast with Cas, or how the two of them bathe and get Grace dressed for the day together. Then, just before the party, Dean helps Cas prepare the meats and salads for lunch while Grace plays with a toy keyboard in her playpen. It’s during the entire morning that he feels like he’s just another member of the household, like he _belongs_ there. It’s a moment that he wants to cherish for as long as possible. 

The first guests, who happen to be Cas’ brother Jimmy and his family, arrive at ten-thirty. Dean has never met Jimmy, but he can see what Cas means when he says they’re twins. They are identical in pretty much every way possible, apart from their clothes and the way they wear their hair. Jimmy’s hair is much more chaotic than Cas’, who has his hair styled much neater. Dean knows that if the two of them were to ever wear their hair the same way and identical clothing, he’d never be able to tell the difference. 

“Hi, I’m Jimmy,” the man greets, introducing himself to Dean when he spots him in the kitchen. While Cas had gone to answer the door for him, Dean remained in the kitchen with Grace, making faces at her every chance he could just to hear her laugh. 

“Uh, I’m Dean,” he says, holding out his hand. They quickly shake hands before Jimmy turns his full attention to his niece. 

“There’s the birthday girl!” he cheers, walking over to Grace. Dean watches as Jimmy picks Grace up out of her playpen, while Cas enters the room with a woman and little girl in tow. 

“I see you’ve met my brother,” Cas announces. “This is his wife, Amelia and their little girl Claire — who I can honestly say is the most entertaining four-year-old I’ve met. Girls, this is Dean.” 

While Claire pays him no attention and runs straight over to see Grace, Amelia sends him a smile. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Dean. How do you know Cas and Grace?” she asks warmly. Dean sends a quick glance to Cas, scared to answer the question. Does he tell the truth? Or does he lie? 

Fortunately, Cas answers his silent plea and responds for him. 

“Actually, Dean here is Grace’s other father. He just flew in last night for her birthday.” 

Suddenly, it’s almost as if the air in the room drops a few degrees as a thick veil of tension silhouettes the room. Jimmy turns his attention back on Dean, his eyes dark.

_“What?”_

Cas remains calm, crossing his arms. “Is there a problem, Jimmy?”

Jimmy scoffs. “Are you kidding me Cas? You’re gonna let the guy who walked out on you just waltz back in here and be a part of Grace’s life?” 

Dean sends Cas a startled look. He thought Cas wasn’t angry about the night he left, or at least that’s what he conveyed in his letters. For a moment, Dean is concerned that Cas actually has felt betrayed by his absence for all these months. However, Cas just holds his hand up and shakes his head, conveying that’s not what he thought at all. Meanwhile, Amelia grabs Grace out of Jimmy’s arms and takes Claire by the hand, leading her into the living room. 

“You _assumed_ that Dean walked out of my life. I never stated that as fact, because I wanted to keep what happened private. But you just insisted that he must have left, and hence, you have formed an incorrect assumption as well as a biased opinion of him.”

Jimmy still doesn’t seem pleased, causing Cas to sigh.

“When I met Dean, I knew he was going to be out of the country for work in the following weeks, so our time together was short-lived. I knew full well he’d be leaving and that we wouldn’t be able to contact each other. I was happy with that arrangement. Neither of us obviously prepared for the fact that Grace would be brought into the picture. I had no means of contacting him, hence why I didn’t mention who he was to any of you. I wanted to wait until I gave him the chance to decide. I was eventually able to track down a forwarding address for him and he received everything on Thursday. He flew straight out here. He didn’t walk out on either me or Grace, and I am angered by the fact that you would think that when I said no such thing.” 

For the most part, Jimmy has the decency to look guilty. The air is still tense for a moment, before Jimmy relaxes, his face no longer pinched and his body no longer rigid.

“I’m sorry Dean, for assuming,” he says.

Dean shrugs. “It’s fine. For what it’s worth, I have a brother as well. I would be equally as protective over him if the same thing happened.” 

Jimmy smiles softly, while Cas rolls his eyes. “Now that this is all settled, how about we head into the next room to see Grace? After all, Jimmy, you wanted me to hold this whole celebration for her.” 

He glares at Cas. “Excuse me for wanting to celebrate your daughter's birthday.” 

“ _First_ birthday, as in she is only one, and won’t remember a thing.”

“Castiel, stop being so cynical.” 

Dean turns his attention away from the bickering twins to Amelia, who sends Dean an exasperated look.

“Does this happen a lot?” he asks.

“All the time,” she says with a sigh. She stands up and passes Grace to Dean, while giving him a wink. 

“You better get used to it.” 

He watches as the two brothers continue to playfully argue, while Claire giggles and Amelia remains tired of it all. He looks down at Grace and a small smile forms on his face.

This? Having a family?

This is definitely something he could get used to.

* * *

The party, or “gathering”, was a success. While it only lasted a couple of hours, everyone seemed to have a pleasant time. Dean met Cas’ older brother and got to relive the exact same argument that Cas and Jimmy had. But in the end, Gabriel warmed up to him quick enough, albeit while still remaining slightly wary of him. He also reunited with Hannah and Chuck, who both seemed pleased to see him there. Towards the end of the party, he ended up sneaking away at one point to update both Sam and Charlie, promising pictures for Sam and promising updates for Charlie at a later date. His new friend promised to stay in Lawrence for one more night so that Dean could meet up with her the next day and provide all the details she wanted (well, at least _most_ of them). 

With everyone now gone, the house once again has fallen into silence. Grace is napping, Cas is doing the dishes and Dean is cleaning up the wrapping paper in the living room. He is mindlessly completing the task at first, until he fully takes notice of the abundance of gifts that Grace’s family and friends spoiled her with. As he pauses to look, Cas’ words from the night before drift into his head.

_“I think you being here is the best present either of us could ask for.”_

He thinks about how much fun he had today, and how for the first time in a long while, he felt like he actually belonged somewhere. His thoughts are racing as he thinks back to the blissful morning he spent with Cas, and the words he spoke to Grace on the rocking chair. He thinks of Charlie’s words. 

_“I think you know what you have to do.”_

He does know what he needs to do. 

  
Careful not to disturb Cas, he makes his way down the foyer and through the door to the backyard. He steps outside onto the deck with his phone, dialling a familiar number and holding it to his ear. 

“Dean Winchester, I’m going to _kill_ you.” 

“Hi Pam, sorry I forgot to call.” 

She scoffs. “Sorry? Are you serious? Dean, the least you could’ve done was let me know you were _alive,_ I was about to send a search party out for you!” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “No you weren’t. I bet when you hadn’t heard from me you contacted Sam and _he_ told you I was fine. Am I wrong?” 

There’s a pause.

“Okay fine. Yes, I contacted Sam to ask if you were still kicking. But c’mon Dean, I’m your manager, I should be hearing it first.” 

Dean sighs. “Look Pamela, that reminds me of why I called. As my manager, you should probably know that I’m not coming back.” 

There’s a long silence before Pamela speaks. “...You’re kidding.” 

Dean takes a moment to look out at the backyard, in an attempt to calm himself. He looks out at the large oak tree and the dead grass. He should probably do some mowing soon. 

“I’m not. I don’t know how, or what it’s going to cost me, but I’m terminating my contract. I’ve had the chance to meet my daughter, see her father and spend some time with them. I don’t want to be an absent father, I want to be there for the both of them fully and completely. You know I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me, and I’ve enjoyed performing but—”

“Dean,” Pamela interrupts him, “I understand.” 

He exhales. “You do?” 

“Of course I do,” she says. “You have a family now, Dean. You’re a father, and if you gave all of that up to come back here, then you wouldn’t be the man I met all those years ago. You’re loyal and caring, it’s what I love about you. Am I disappointed you won’t be performing anymore? Absolutely. But I don’t regret bringing you on and giving you the chance to shine. Of course, there are going to be a lot of difficulties with getting this contract terminated, and I can’t promise you you won’t have to come back to Los Angeles to sit through a series of meetings. But, I can promise you that I will do everything I can to give you the life with your family that you deserve.” 

Dean stands frozen in awe for a moment. While he knows Pamela loves him and cares about him, he had no idea she cared for him in this way. He feels a lump form in his throat.

“Thank you, Pam.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll get the ball rolling and call you back on Monday. Enjoy your weekend, because you’re going to have a hell of a week.” 

“I’ll be prepared.”

They say their goodbyes, before Dean hangs up the phone and slips back inside. He packs up the remnants of the wrapping paper into a garbage bag and piles Grace’s presents neatly into a corner of the room. He then walks to the kitchen to find Cas who is draining the sink and drying the last of the plates. He turns to look at Dean with a small smile. 

“Hey Dean, thanks for—” Cas begins to say, but Dean interrupts him. 

“I’m all in,” Dean states. “I’m all in for every bit of it. I was scared about losing my job, because even though it was nothing like I thought it’d be, I thought I’d be disappointing everyone, including myself, if I gave it up after working all this time for it. But I now know that it means shit-all compared to _this._ I want to be there for both you and Grace. I want to have a family like this, like today, where I know I belong. I want to feed my daughter and sing her to sleep. I want to cook with you and eat breakfast with you. Hell, just the thought of us all being together and doing chores is enough to make me want to cry, Cas. Can we make this work? Because I’ve called Pam, and starting Monday I’m going to try and terminate my contract, and I need to _—_ ” 

Dean isn’t prepared for Cas grabbing him and pulling their faces together. He barely has time to register the feeling of Cas’ lips on his before Cas pulls away. 

“We will make this work. I want nothing more.” 

Dean grins and reaches out to pull Cas into a hug, gripping onto him tightly. He takes comfort in the quiet, and just the _feel_ of Cas against him. The comfort of knowing he’s home. 

“I guess I’m moving to Eudora then,” he mumbles. 

He feels the vibrations of Cas’ chuckle on his shoulder. 

“I guess you are.” 

* * *

**October 3rd 2015  
** **Eudora, Kansas  
** **_Six Years Later_ **

* * *

“Thomas James and Tamsin Samantha, if you don’t get down here on the count of three, you will spend the entirety of this evening in your _rooms._ ” 

Dean winces from where he’s standing in the kitchen, flipping eggs on the fry-pan for their usual Saturday morning breakfast. He finds it pretty hilarious that Cas is usually the calm and collected one out of both of them, the one that’s reasonable and has in-depth discussions with their children about actions and consequences. Dean is much more the disciplinarian, making sure the kids know what they did wrong and why they need to be punished for it in the span of thirty seconds.

However, today is different. _Special._ First, Cas hasn’t had coffee yet. Which, in itself, is a recipe for disaster. Cas isn’t one for mornings. It’s also their daughter’s seventh birthday, and with a party happening in just under five hours, the man in the foyer is practically a ticking time bomb. 

He looks over from the stove to the kitchen table, where Grace is staring at him with mirth in her eyes. He knows she likes it when her siblings get in trouble, considering the twins are the babies of the family. Her hair is the definition of “bed-head”, the strands sticking up all over the place. And she’s still in her pajamas, the _Anna and Elsa_ nightgown that her aunt, uncle and cousin got her for her previous birthday. 

“Grace,” he warns her, raising an eyebrow. “You know you don’t like it when Papa yells at you, so you shouldn’t find it funny when he does it to the twins.” 

A sheepish expression forms on her face. “Sorry Daddy.” 

“Mhm,” he murmurs, grabbing the plate of toast from the side and gently sliding the eggs onto it. He turns the stove off before bringing the plate over to Grace, who is practically wriggling in her seat with glee.

“Sunny Side up, just the way the birthday princess likes it,” he says. Grace huffs.

_“Daaaaad_ , I’m not a birthday princess _._ I’m a _queen,_ like Elsa.” 

Dean has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He leans down into a bow, causing Grace to giggle. 

“I am so sorry, your majesty.” 

He then turns away as Grace starts eating, deciding to join Cas out in the foyer. The man is scowling up the stairs as the twins begin to race from their bedroom, practically sprinting down the stairs before the man gets to three. Tamsin is first as always, standing at the bottom of the stairs right in front of her fathers with a big smile on her face. Tommy is a second behind her, almost crashing into all of them as he leaps off the last step. 

Cas scowls at them. “You two are not showing good manners today. I better not see you misbehaving _at all_ this morning, or you will definitely be missing out on the party. Which means missing out on the bouncy castle _and_ all the games. Do you understand?”   
  
The twins are wide-eyed and nod furiously,

“Yes, Papa.” 

Before Cas can say anything further, Dean looks at them. 

“How about you go wash your hands and get your aprons on? Maybe you can show me how good you are by helping me make scrambled eggs.”

They grin and yell: “Yes Dad!” as they rush towards the sink in the kitchen. He sighs, hoping he doesn’t cause a fight between the two of them. The twins are like two peas in a pod, most of the time. Afterall, they _are_ twins. Yet, when they argue, it’s as if they’ve set off World War lll in their own house. 

He turns back to Cas, who still has a frown on his face. 

“You do realise that they’re four, right? _And_ you do remember what _Grace_ was like at their age, right?”

They both give a quick glance to their eldest, who is happily munching on her eggs and toast, oblivious to the rest of the world. 

“Yes, I remember,” Cas sighs. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I find today so stressful. It’s just a birthday party.” 

Dean laughs. “It’s been like this every year since she was three. Her first birthday party with the twins having only just been born, and you were frantically making sure that she knew how much we loved her. Ever since, I guess that frantic-ness hasn’t gone away.” 

Cas sighs again. “I suppose you’re right.” 

“I’m always right,” Dean teases, even though they both know that it is a complete _lie._ “Now cheer up, sunshine. Let’s get some coffee into you, and then after breakfast we can open Grace’s presents.” 

“You mean so _Grace_ can open _her_ presents.”

“That’s what I said.”

Cas rolls his eyes fondly and plants a quick peck on Dean’s lips before wandering into the kitchen. Dean flushes slightly before following. 

While Cas sits down, Dean turns the espresso machine on and helps the twins with their aprons. He hastily ties up Tamsin’s hair, knowing full well that her long hair would be bound to get in the mixing bowl. Her hair is a similar colour to Dean’s, albeit a little darker _—_ while her brother’s is practically identical to Dean’s own. And while Tamsin ended up with green eyes just like her dad, Tommy ended up with blue eyes just like his Papa. 

“Can I ask for my breakfast without egg shells?” Cas asks from the table. 

Dean winks. “You know I can’t promise that.” 

The sound of Cas’ laughter afterwards is like music to Dean’s ears. 

_Yeah,_ he thinks. _Today is going to be a good day._

* * *

The party is a smashing success, and after a day full of screaming children, a trashed backyard and lots and _lots_ of sugar, the two of them are finally able to retire to their bedroom. 

“Do we have to do these _every year?”_ Dean groans as he begins to get into his pajamas. Cas is already in bed behind him, reading a book. He hums. 

“Just imagine the sixteenths.” 

Dean turns around and glares at his partner, who is smirking at him, _“Why would you bring that up?”_

“I am merely pointing out that it could be much worse.” 

Dean huffs. “Says you, Mr. _‘Thomas-James-and-Tamsin’—_ ”

“Okay, I get it,” Cas replies with a roll of his eyes. “Now will you come to bed already?” 

Dean gulps, suddenly feeling cold. With the day’s events, he almost forgot what his plan was for the night and he feels himself start to panic.

_No, stop._ He thinks to himself. _Buck the fuck up, Winchester._

“Ah, no… um actually, could you come here please?” 

Cas frowns at him but does as he’s asked. He puts down the book and stands up, walking over to Dean.

“Is something wrong?” 

Dean shakes his head frantically. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

In a quick movement, he turns and opens his sock drawer. He rummages until he finds the buried envelope and pulls it out. Cas is watching each movement cautiously. 

Once the drawer closes, he passes the envelope to Cas.

“Read it.” He says. 

Cas looks down at the envelope, where his name is written on the front in Dean’s writing.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause.

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

“No! Why on _Earth_ would I be breaking up with you?!”

“I don’t know! You seem pretty ominous right now.”  
  


Dean just laughs and pushes Cas towards the bed. “Just read it, okay?”

Cas sighs but again does as he’s told and goes to the end of the bed and sits down. 

A minute passes. 

Then two. 

Dean watches Cas’ face the whole time, the way it goes from a passive scowl, to as soft as a puppy, to teary-eyed. By the time he finishes the letter, it looks as if Cas is trying not to get overly emotional, and failing spectacularly.

“Damn you, Dean Winchester.” He laughs brokenly. 

“So, do I get an answer?” Dean asks with a grin. Cas is up in a heartbeat, racing towards him and connecting their lips. Dean immediately leans into the kiss, pulling Cas as close to his body as he can. The kiss isn’t heated or fast-paced, it’s slow and soft. Dean doesn’t think he will ever get tired of kissing Cas, no matter how many years they share together. 

They pull apart. 

“Yes,” Cas breathes out. Dean smiles. 

“I know I’m proposing and all, but I don’t have a ring. I would rather it be something we do together.”

Cas leans in and kisses Dean again. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs on his lips.

When they break apart again, Cas turns and heads back towards the bed. He ends up stopping halfway, shooting Dean a look over his shoulder.

“You better be coming to bed now, because I suddenly find myself _not_ tired _at all._ ” 

Dean grins, “Just a moment, dear!” 

And as Cas crawls under the covers, Dean begins the process of removing every article of clothing from his body.

_Yes_ , he thinks. _I’m definitely right._

Everything _is_ perfect.

_October 3rd, 2015_

_Dear Cas,_

~~_I don’t know how to start this_ ~~

_Okay, so here it goes._

_You should probably know by now that I suck at writing letters. I mean, I ain’t as poetic as you by far. I’m sure you can tell already by these first few sentences. I guess I just… I have trouble saying how I feel… even writing it. I really only get the point across in song lyrics. So bear with me on this, I’m going to try my best._

_These past 6 years together have been amazing, probably the best years of my life. It’s funny how that worked out, considering I spent all those years travelling the world. And I enjoyed that, you know I did — but it got to a point where it wasn’t fun anymore. Singing wasn’t fun, travelling wasn’t fun. It was taxing, it was a chore. I felt so overworked. I wanted nothing more than to be back home at my Aunt Ellen’s, watching TV with Sam and eating a good home cooked meal. And I didn’t realise it at the time, but a part of me also wanted to be back here in Eudora, with you._

_I only knew you for 2 weeks, and like we’ve always said, there was already a connection. A bond. And I tried to deny it from the moment I felt it, because I had only just met you and my career had only just begun. My whole life, I wanted nothing more than to be a rockstar. I wasn’t going to give it up for anyone._

_That was a mistake._

_I never got to experience the places I travelled to. Never got to interact with those fans that were obsessed with my music. It was just going from one stage to the next. And I’m thankful for Pam and the team. They were amazing. But, I didn’t enjoy it. Not like I should’ve. These years with you and Grace? And the twins? Now_ _that_ _is joy._

_You never had to let me into your life again. While I know I always said to you that I was going to leave, it came to a point where I knew it would be wrong of me to. Yet, I still did, I left without so much as a goodbye. Without giving you my #. Of course I wanted to stay in contact with you, but that had never been the deal. I always wondered why I felt so guilty, especially when I chose to drive away. I was an idiot, Cas. But, what else is new?_

_Then, you decided to give our co-parenting a try, back during Grace’s 1st birthday. And since then, I’ve spent every day trying to prove that I am a father that Grace deserves, that I am the man that_ _you_ _deserve. It’s strange, how long ago that was, and how unfamiliar we were with each other. And then came January, where you took me out on our first date for my 31st birthday. Best goddamn birthday ever. Then the following March, you surprised me with Grace’s updated birth certificate. Joy can’t even describe that. Nor the first time you told me you loved me, when we were in California visiting Sam for his birthday. Or when you gave birth to our twins. All my life, I don’t think I ever thought I’d feel joy like that._

_All these years… god Cas… how did I get so lucky?_

_I mentioned before that I describe things better through lyrics. So when I knew you were the one, that it was going to work between us and that I_ ~~_wanted_~~ _needed you in my life, the lyrics just came to me. I’ve been holding onto them for a while now, but I think eventually, I am going to produce one last song… before I give up the rockstar life forever. I never thought that I’d enjoy producing more than I did travelling and performing. Yet being able to help others with their music, and getting to spend my nights with you, Grace, Tommy and Tamsin… it’s the best feeling, ever._

_I don’t know what else to really say… just that I love you. A lot. So much. And I think I always knew you were the one for me, but I was too focused on trying to live my dreams to realise that you were it. You once wrote in a letter to me that Grace is perfect. And you were fucking right. I know every parent says this ;) … but she_ _is_ _perfect. Her and Thomas and Tamsin. They’re everything. They’re ours. And I know you hate when I say this, but you,_ _you are perfect. _

_I know we promised ourselves to each other three years ago, during our visit to California for Sam’s wedding, but I know you’ve always dreamed of an actual wedding, too. And we never got that, not until now. With everything set in stone in our constitution, I want_ _us_ _to be set in stone. I already know I’m spending forever with you man, but let’s make it official._

_You’re it for me. And while I’ve wanted to ask this for a while, since the news in June, I felt today was the perfect day to ask it. Our daughter has just turned 7, and we have spent 6 happy years together as a family. And I want us to forever be a family._

_So to be all formal about it:_

_Castiel Steven Novak… will you marry me?_

_Yours Always,_

_Dean_

_All Our Own_

_Listened to yesterday_

_Long before the way_ ~~_its_ ~~ _it has become_

_And it all came down to you_

_I don't really know the way_

_Played out stranger than it seemed_

_But what went down came true_

_Like ~~an~~ _ _an_ _all day dream_

_I don't want to be the one to say it's wrong_

_When the heavens open and_ ~~_the_ _th_~~ _a new day comes along_

_I know I would rather be together alone_

_In a big top circle and a world we can call our own_

_It's all our own_

_In a world we can call our own_

_You'll find shelter_ ~~_love_ ~~ _darlin'_

_Where I'll always promise to_

_Never let it be_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! If you wanna talk more about Destiel, make sure you hit up the ProfoundBond Discord server (18+). Check it out: https://discord.gg/profoundbond
> 
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